


Devil On My Shoulder

by AlElizabeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Other, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 351,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after S.5, E. 22 "Swan Song". Sam has returned from Hell and Dean couldn't be happier to have his brother back. The problem is, something is wrong with Sam and Dean wants to find out what it is. With the help of Bobby Singer, the boys delve into a mystery they wish they had never uncovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Void

The last thing I remember is tumbling backwards into the Pit. I remember everything that happened before that as well. Being 'possessed' by Lucifer was completely different from being possessed by a demon. I knew exactly what was going on around me; I heard it all, saw it all play out before my eyes but I had no control over what was happening. There were no moments of blacking out, no loss of time. I watched as Lucifer killed Castiel and Bobby and nearly killed Dean as well. Then I was in Hell. For a long while, I don't know how long, the only thing that kept me from giving up was the thought of the lives of six billion people; the lives of Dean and others, who depended on me. Soon though, I couldn't even hold on to the thought that my sacrifice had saved millions of lives, the only person who cared about what I had done was unable to help me now…

I woke up in the middle of the night. It was raining; I could feel the cold patter of water on my back, the brush of damp grass on my face. I held my eyes closed, afraid to believe I was Topside again. I reached out and grabbed a tuft of grass in one hand as though to anchor myself to the World of the Living. I breathed in and out slowly, letting the cool air fill my lungs; I sensed my heart beating strong in my chest. I opened my eyes- I was laying on my stomach in Stull Cemetery where I had fallen. I made out the pale shapes of gravestones and cautiously moved onto my hands and knees.  
Wait! Panic suddenly gripped me. Why was I back? Did the Horsemens' rings fail? Was Lucifer still free?  
I froze and gulped down air as I assessed the situation- I closed my eyes and tried to sense Lucifer's presence- not that I was likely to ever forget what it felt like to be possessed by the fallen angel- I began to calm as I realized that I was alone within myself.  
Sighing with relief I stood and looked around. All was quiet. The gravestones around me stood tall and whole. I thought of when Cas had brought Dean back from Hell and the grave site, as my brother described it, looked like a 'nuke had gone off'.  
"Cas?" I called out before I remembered that Lucifer had killed him.  
"Hello? Is anyone there?" I tried; maybe a different angel had brought me back.  
I was answered only by the sound of crickets.  
I reached up and brushed some damp hair from my eyes. How long had I been in Hell? Where was Dean? Was he alright?  
Taking wary steps I made my way toward the entrance of the cemetery. As I walked I realized that I was stranded: I had no car and I doubted anyone would pick me up if I tried to hitch-hike. Searching my pockets I found one crumpled twenty dollar bill. I didn't even have my cell phone on me.  
I decided that the best I could do was to wait until morning, go into the town and find the nearest diner to give me change. At least I could call Dean on a pay phone.

I walked into Lawrence and sat on a bench in the park. I was cold and wet and hungry but I had a plan, well sort of. I looked down into the trash can sitting beside the bench and saw a newspaper. I grabbed it and tried to read the date but it was smudged with rain.  
As I sat on the uncomfortable bench I felt my eyes begin to close...slowly...slowly...  
I woke with a jump; the memory that flashed through my mind caused adrenaline to course through my body with terror. I cried out and shook my head. I remembered the agony and the feeling of hopelessness that bordered on despair.  
I sat straighter and fought off sleep. I watched the black sky turn to navy and finally to slate gray of a cloudy, stormy day. Around me the town began to wake. I watched as men and women arrived for work, school buses with unhappy kids rumbled by and stores opened for both locals and those just passing through.  
A diner across from where I sat, called Lloyd's, opened for the breakfast crowd.  
I stood and walked stiffly across the street. Lloyd's was a dingy, cramped hole-in-the-wall kind of place. There was a beige Formica bar along one wall with red stools and a chalkboard covered with the specials for each day above it. The rest of the place had booths along the wall parallel to the bar and small, round tables crammed into the rest of the available area. Two elderly men sat at the bar with cups of coffee, a harried looking woman sat at a table in the corner eating what looked like scrambled eggs and bacon. I turned to the bar where a middle-aged waitress with stringy, graying hair stood waiting.  
I pulled the bill from my pocket and sat it on the bar.  
'Ethel' (I read the name tag) looked at me with the bland expression of a heifer.  
"I need change," I said, my voice raspy.  
"Coming right up, hon" Ethel swiped the twenty I set down off the bar and spoke in a way that told me that she only ever spoke those four words when she worked.  
"One dollar bills!" I called back to Ethel as I leaned over the bar. The two old fogies stared at me.  
Ethel returned and handed me twenty one dollar bills. I realized then that I probably should have chosen a different number of bills but it was a little late. Ethel looked like she didn't want to go and make change again.  
"Anything else I can get you, hon?" Ethel asked as my stomach grumbled loudly.  
I glanced at the menu board and ordered the cheapest thing- black coffee and scrambled eggs.  
I sat in one of the booths and waited for my food. I tapped my foot restlessly and stared out the window at the passersby. I wanted to move, to have a destination in mind but I had to wait until I had eaten.  
Was Dean with Lisa and Ben? Was he alright? Was Bobby-  
I stopped mid-thought; Bobby was dead. Lucifer had killed him, I had killed him.  
I took a deep breath to quell the rise of emotion.  
"Here you go, hon" Ethel set down a white mug of coffee and a steaming plate of eggs in front of me.  
"Thanks," I muttered and began wolfing down my breakfast.  
The coffee was very strong, and hot. I drank it as it continued to steam. The eggs were lukewarm but at least they were real eggs and not that dehydrated Just-Add-Water crap some places served.  
I ate and then paid for the food- $3.47 and left to find a payphone.  
It drizzled as I stepped outside. I got odd looks from people covering their heads with umbrellas. I used the change I got after eating to pay for the first phone I got to.  
I tried Dean's cell phone. It rang, and rang, and rang...  
"The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Please-" A mechanical female voice said. I hung up.  
"Damn!" I said and glared at the phone as though it was to blame.  
What was I going to do? I could walk but it was a long way to Lisa's. A cab ride all the way to Cicero would be way too expensive and I knew no taxi driver would agree to make that drive.  
A sharp tap on the glass of the booth made me look up.  
"Hey pal, there are other people who want to use the phone, so unless your Superman I think you should get outta there," an angry looking man said, his voice muffled from the glass.  
"Sorry," I muttered and slipped out.  
The man grumbled something about 'punk kids' and went inside the booth.

Mind working furiously to figure out how I was going get to Dean, I trudged down the sidewalk. I really had no one to turn to: Bobby and Cas were dead, and every other hunter wanted me dead or thought I was already. A headache began to grow steadily between my eyes.  
"Sam? Sam Winchester?" a voice asked and I looked up. I saw a heavyset woman who had to be in her late forties to early fifties. She wore bright red rubber boots, jeans and a tweed jacket. She smiled warmly, her large brown eyes crinkling at the corners.  
"Uh, I'm sorry, but do I know you?" I asked. My hunter instincts went into high gear.  
"I'm Marge, Marge Lenson. I used to look after you and Dean whenever your Dad was in the area," Marge said in a bubbly voice.  
I vaguely remembered being babysat by a larger woman when a mission took us close to Lawrence.  
"It's been what? Ten, twelve years?" Marge said, a pensive expression making her look comical.  
"More, I think..." I said.  
"Oh, it doesn't really matter. I knew it was you as soon as I saw those soulful green eyes of yours," Marge waved her hand in dismissal.  
I smiled but I was still on guard.  
"What are you doing here Sam? Where are Dean and John?" Marge asked, her voice now filled with concern.  
"I uh, Dad passed away... a few years ago now."  
"Oh I am so sorry," Marge moved forward and placed a large hand on my arm.  
"You're soaked through! Come here," Marge steered me down the street to where she owned a coffee shop.  
I allowed myself to be guided inside. The coffee shop was spacious and inviting, with puffy purple, umber and beige chairs and couches. The scent of coffee, teas and steamed milk permeated everything. The lighting was dim but comfortable.  
"Sit, sit," Marge said and I sat, or rather sank, into a large orange chair.  
"You really don't have to do this," I said as Marge bustled away, making coffee. The two girls and one boy working the counter simply moved out of Marge's way that told me they were experts at avoiding their large employer. One of the girls, who couldn't be more than seventeen smiled at me and blushed.  
"Here you go, fresh Colombian," Marge said and handed me a paper cup of coffee. She sat in a purple chair across from me.  
"Why don't you take an hour or so break?" Marge said to the three kids who nodded and, smiling moved to a farther end of the shop with cups of their own.  
Once settled in, Marge turned her gaze to me, "So, why are you here all alone?"  
"It's kind of a long story... really long and I don't think you'd believe me," I said as I let the heat of the cup warm my hands.  
"Try me," Marge said, looking completely serious.  
Of course I was not going to REALLY tell her what happened so I made up a tale. I told Marge that I had fallen on bad times (which wasn't really a lie) and that Dean and I had had a fight but now I was stranded with no way of contacting him and he me.  
"Dean'll be worried if I don't let him know I'm okay," Okay, I knew that the story was paper thin but Marge didn't ask any questions.  
The thing was I didn't want to keep using my small amount of cash to call Dean's numerous cell phones only to find out they were not in use anymore so I was pretty much asking Marge if I could rack up her phone bill by calling long distance to what would probably be a very long conversation with my brother.  
"Yeah. I don't want to put you out but I have no other way. I will completely understand if you say no," I was letting my guard down. Maybe it was because it was nice inside, the coffee delicious, or the fact that I was exhausted.  
"Well Sam... I'll do one better. I will drive you to Indiana myself," Marge said.  
"You don't have to do that..." I straightened in the chair. My hunter instincts flaring again.  
"I told John a long time ago that if either you or Dean were in trouble I would help you without question and I will keep my promises Sam," Marge said and finished her coffee.  
I sighed; I didn't really have much of a choice if I wanted to see Dean.

Marge insisted that we would leave first thing the next morning.  
"You look like death warmed over m'dear" Marge pointed out as she drove me to her house and I couldn't help notice the irony of her comment.  
Marge's house was small but cozy with lots of family photos and two friendly cats.  
She made up the bed in the guest bedroom while she told me to shower. She set out some of her son's clothes for me.  
"Sidney's about your height but a little larger than you but they should fit," Marge said as she handed me a pair of jeans, and a navy blue t-shirt.  
Once I was changed (the clothes fit perfectly in length but were baggy) Marge took my clothes so she could wash them.  
She wanted to stay but I insisted she go back to her shop, "I'll be fine."  
"You're still just a little boy to me," she smiled and left.  
I lay on my back on the bed in the guest room. I felt so incredibly tired but my eyes kept traveling around the room. I looked at the ceiling, the floral wallpaper, the whitewashed closet, the picture of an autumn road bordered with trees of orange, yellow and red...  
Like flames, I thought as my eyes began to close...

Darkness. Darkness so complete it was almost a solid thing. A living, breathing thing. Darkness that blotted out any light. Fear gripped me as never before, a paralyzing fear. I have not been afraid of the dark since I was child but now I was terrified. I didn't know where I was. I could hear distant screaming, shrieks of horror and pain that I had never heard before. I felt a presence close to me. The presence oozed a hate so powerful I knew it couldn't be human, a hate directed solely on me.  
"Lucifer," I breathed.  
"Yesssss," Lucifer hissed.  
Suddenly agony enveloped me. I cried out but the pain continued, relentless.  
I panted, begging to no one to stop the pain. I wanted Dean. I didn't care that he was Topside I wanted him to make the pain stop...

"Sam?" Marge shook my shoulder, "are you alright?"  
My eyes snapped open.  
Confused, I looked around and then focused on Marge's face, full of concern.  
"You were shouting in your sleep. You were calling out for Dean," Marge said.  
"Just a nightmare. What time is it?" I asked. I raised a shaky hand brushed hair from my face.  
"4:35" Marge stepped back and surveyed me.  
"Are you sure you are alright?"  
"Yes!" I snapped, not meaning to.  
"I'm sorry," I apologized.  
"Don't worry about it. I have my secrets too," Marge said not unkindly.  
I nodded and wiped a hand over my face.  
"Dinner's ready if you'd like some," Marge smiled, her jovial self again.  
Marge waddled down the stairs. I sat still for five minutes; I remembered what I had been dreaming about, what memory I was dreaming about.  
I shuddered, suddenly cold.  
I slid off the bed and walked slowly downstairs.  
Marge was in the kitchen, sitting at a wooden table with her husband; a curiously skinny man named Dougy and her son Sidney.  
Dougy and Sidne greeted me warmly and I sat down. Marge had made a pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots and rolls.  
I took a little bit of everything but discovered that when the food was on my plate I didn't want it. I had a bitter taste in my mouth that I tried to wash away with milk to no avail. I forced myself to eat; the food that should have been delicious was tasteless.

After dinner I told Marge that I was going to take a walk. Marge asked if I wanted any company but I said I wanted to be by myself for a little while.

I didn't think about where I was going. I just let my feet lead the way.

I traveled from Marge's house, through Lawrence's small downtown and into a residential area.

It started raining again but I didn't care. I just wanted to be on my own; I just wanted to think about things.

Even though I was getting a ride to Cicero in the morning I still wasn't a hundred percent sure if Dean would be there or even if he was alright for that matter. The last time I had seen my brother he had been beaten pretty badly- I just hoped Dean was safe.

I found myself walking down a familiar sidewalk. I looked up and recognized the house I was standing in front of- this was where Missouri Moseley lived.

I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go inside. I wasn't sure if the psychic still lived there.

My feet seemed to move of their own free will though; I walked up the front path, past the flowerbeds and stood before the front door.

I raised one hand and knocked quietly.

The door opened and Missouri looked surprised to see me.

"Sam," the black psychic whispered, her eyes wide with shock.

"Well, don't just stand there on the porch, come in, come in," Missouri stood to one side and I entered her home.

I walked into her living room and sat down on the couch.

Missouri went into the kitchen and busied herself with making tea.

I didn't say anything and neither did Missouri. I was afraid the psychic would tear a strip off me for what I had done.

Missouri came into the room holding a tray with a china tea pot and cups- they where white with prints of yellow, purple and pink flowers. There was also a saucer with shortbread cookies on it. Missouri sat down across from me in a green and blue chair.

"I, uh…" I tried to speak but paused, unsure of how to proceed.

"I know what you did Sam," Missouri said with a solemn expression.

I lowered my head and waited for the tirade. I poured myself some tea and held the cup in hands that trembled slightly.

"You did the right thing," Missouri said and I looked up.

I shook my head, "it doesn't feel like the right thing."

Missouri gazed at me for a moment, "and why not?" she said with attitude.

I sighed and shut my eyes for a moment. I gulped down some of the tea.

"We were desperate… I was desperate. We were running out of time and options… I just, I just made a decision... I made the choice that would save the most people…" I stopped talking as my voice cracked.

"I just wanted it to end…" I whispered without looking at Missouri. Why had I come here at all? Because of me the world had almost ended up in ashes. Because of me Lucifer had nearly won.

Missouri must hate me. She probably thought I was evil, that I was a monster.

"You did do the right thing Sam. You saved many lives," Missouri said without any hate in her voice.

I shrugged.

"If you could go back would you make the same choices?" Missouri asked.

I paused, thinking.

"Yes," I answered.

I looked up and Missouri had a satisfied expression on her face.

We didn't speak. I finished my tea and ate a cookie that tasted like sawdust but not for a lack of Missouri's baking.

I would glance up every couple of seconds and see an uneasy expression on the psychic's face. I was making her uncomfortable.

"It's alright Sam," Missouri spoke up, "you can stay here as long as you need to."

"Actually, I'm staying with a friend; she's going to drive me to Indiana in the morning," I said.

Missouri nodded.

"I'd better get going… thanks for seeing me," I stood and held out a hand.

Missouri looked at my offered hand and then took it delicately- instead of shaking my hand though, she cupped it between both of hers.

The psychic looked at me with a sad expression on her face.

She released my hand, "Dean's safe Sam… and he's been waiting for you."

I nodded and Missouri walked me to the door, it was raining outside. I ducked out of the doorway and slowly made my way back to Marge's house across town.

I went to sleep early that night. Marge gave me a couple of sleeping pills, "just in case", she said.  
I lay on the bed, staring at the shadows of tree branches out the window on the ceiling. I couldn't stop thinking about Dean. I learned from the calendar Marge kept in the kitchen that eighteen months had passed since I had taken the plunge. A year and a half! I hoped that Missouri was right and that Dean was alright and happy. I could barely wait for morning to come so I could see him.  
My thoughts drifted as I fell asleep...

It was nighttime and I was standing outside, under a streetlight. A chilly wind was blowing, scattering dead leaves across the pavement. I saw that the house across the street had its curtains open. I saw movement inside the house. I saw a dark haired woman who looked familiar and a young boy... then I saw him: Dean!  
Dean! I tried to call out but no sound came out. I couldn't open my mouth. Something was wrong, I was frozen. I tried to take a step forward but my feet would not obey.  
Dean! I focused all my energy on calling out my brother's name.  
Why? Why can't I move! I screamed silently and then I felt it. A presence. His presence.  
No! No, no, no! God no! I screamed silently as I stood, watching Dean and Lisa and Ben. They were so close. I had to warn Dean!  
You god damned bastard! It's not supposed to end like this! The rings should have worked!  
Lucifer didn't deign to answer me. A chuckle that was not mine escaped from my lips as the streetlamp overhead burst...

I woke with a start. I looked around at the unfamiliar room. It was just a nightmare, I told myself, just a nightmare. I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Slowly night turned to day.

Marge gave me back my freshly cleaned clothes which I changed into and we ate a quick breakfast. We didn't speak. Marge hummed a song happily to herself but I was quiet. I just wanted to be back with Dean.  
We climbed into Marge's blue minivan and began the long drive to Cicero, Indiana. All the way Marge made small talk while I answered in monosyllables. I didn't want to be rude but I just didn't have the energy for a conversation.  
I watched passively as trees and houses whipped by. I had been feeling strange ever since I had awoken.  
I was drifting off when Marge stopped the van. In the middle of nowhere. I looked up; all I could see were trees.  
"Marge?" I asked and turned to her.  
"Yes?" She answered innocently.  
"Why did you stop?" I reached out and gripped the door handle. Marge looked at me, a wicked grin forming on her face. Her eyes turned from brown to pitch black.  
"Oh Sam, you didn't think we'd let you off the hook that easily did you?" the demon asked as she pulled a knife from the space between the driver's side door and the seat.  
"Shit," I fumbled with the door handle, never taking my eyes off Marge.  
Just as the demon lunged I opened the door and fell out backwards onto the dirt road, smacking the back of my head on a rock. I was stunned for a moment at the pain and that was just a moment too long.  
With inhuman agility the demon pounced, knocking the breath from me. I raised my hands and grappled with her for the knife. Marge bared her teeth in a grimace as she struggled with me.  
I gulped in air and began to recite the Exorcism ritual, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas-" The demon laughed in my face.  
I felt my arms tremble with the stress of trying to keep the knife away.  
"Just give up Sam and I'll make sure to kill you nice and quick," the demon snarled.  
"Go to Hell!" I snapped, I couldn't help it.  
"After you," the demon said and stabbed me in the shoulder. I gasped at the burning pain and released the demon to try and protect my chest.  
Bad move. The demon stabbed me in the shoulder again. I managed to force my knee up and rammed it into Marge's ample stomach, pushing the demon backwards. I stood and held my free hand out toward Marge; fingers splayed, palm outward and concentrated as hard as I could. Of course I shouldn't have expected that to work, I had been in Hell for a year and a half. The demon laughed again and lunged at me a second time. This time I was not fast enough. The demon plunged the knife into my chest.  
In shock I stared down at the knife handle, and then collapsed on the ground. My lungs felt like they were on fire. Marge knelt over me and pulled the knife out. I gasped for breath that wouldn't come. Just for good measure the demon stabbed me twice more.  
I watched the demon smirk and turn, climbed into Marge's van and drive away. A chilling cold swept over me. There was no pain any more, it had simply drained away to become a numbness throughout my entire body. I couldn't draw breath, I felt like I was drowning. I rolled onto my side, my vision shrinking to a pinprick and I felt an unusual sense of peace. The only thought that crossed my mind before I lost consciousness was that Dean was going to so pissed at me. I barely registered the rusty pickup truck rumbling down the road toward where I lay...

It was Alicia Reilly's second day at Patterson General Hospital and she knew that today was going to be boring. She had arrived in Patterson, Indiana six weeks ago when her fiancé had gotten a raise and had been transferred. Patterson was a sleepy little town, nothing like San Francisco where she was from originally. Yesterday she had to deal with two kids with broken bones, assist in an x-ray for a man who had been in a construction accident and nine patients with the flu. This afternoon though, a little after two thirty, a young man was rushed into the ER with multiple stab wounds to his upper body. A local, Old Donny Henderson, had been heading up to Coulter's Point to do some turkey hunting when he saw this man lying on the side of the road covered in blood. Donny had immediately phoned the police from the cell phone his daughter had given him for Christmas last year (that he'd thought he'd never have to use) and waited with the young guy until paramedics arrived.  
From all the commotion, Alicia gathered that the doctors were amazed the man was still alive. After four hours in surgery Doctor Irving and Doctor Browne had at least got the patient stable but he still had a long way to go before he could be given a clean bill of health. The next few hours were crucial.  
By a coincidence Alicia was given the ICU round today. There were only two patients in ICU- the guy from the construction accident and the stabbing victim.  
When Alicia entered the John Doe's room (they had found no I.D on him, only some change) she had a feeling of déjà vu. She had seen John Doe somewhere but she just couldn't figure out where.  
He looked so vulnerable, with all of those monitors and the IV line in his arm, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his face pallid and drawn. He was breathing on his own though, that was a good sign. One of the stab wounds had punctured his lung, one had actually broken a rib and the other came within mere inches of nicking his aorta. The wounds to his shoulder would be painful but were superficial.  
Alicia watched with curiosity bordering on alarm as the heart monitor turned from a steady beep beep beep to beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep. Alicia approached John Doe's bed, his expression troubled even in his sleep.  
Alicia jumped back and uttered a shriek when the patient's eyes opened and he sat up. He looked at her, his dark green eyes glazed and unfocused.  
"Dr. Irving! Dr. Irving!" Alicia shouted and the young surgeon came running.  
"What's wrong, Reilly?" Dr. Irving pushed John Doe lightly so that he was lying back down. The doctor shone a light in his eyes.  
"The monitor went crazy and he just sat up," Alicia said but Irving ignored her.  
The doctor snapped his fingers in front of the patient, "can you hear me?"  
"Where am I?" John Doe asked. Alicia thought he looked frightened.  
"Patterson General Hospital. Do you know what today's date is?" Irving said in an impatient tone.  
"No… Where am I?" John Doe was looking at Alicia.  
"What is your name?" Irving demanded, right in the patient's face. John Doe leaned back; he didn't like Irving being that close to him.  
"S-Sam Winchester," John Doe said.  
Irving straightened, "Mr. Winchester do you have any family? Parents? Siblings?"  
Sam Winchester looked confused. Irving looked annoyed.  
Alicia approached the bed and spoke in a kind, clear voice. "Do you have any brothers or sisters we could call to let them know you are okay?"  
"Dean. My brother Dean," Sam Winchester said, "I need to see him." He sat up again.  
Irving pushed the patient back down, "you're not going anywhere I'm afraid."

Alicia followed Irving as he walked to the Nurses' Station.  
Irving spoke to Nurse Hess, the Head Nurse. "Call Patterson PD and tell them to see if they can contact a Dean Winchester."  
"Reilly! I want you to stay with Mr. Winchester until we can contact his family. Make sure he stays put," Irving said and walked down the hall.  
Alicia returned to Sam Winchester's room. He had his eyes closed but his breathing told her he was awake. She sat in one of the chairs provided.  
"Do you need anything?" Alicia asked.  
Without opening his eyes, Sam mumbled, "some water."  
As Alicia went to get the water she realized why John Doe, no, Sam Winchester looked so familiar. She had met him at Stanford. Alicia had been roommates with Jessica Moore in their freshman year and she and Jess had become good friends.  
Alicia had been drawn to Jess's bubbly personality, her ability to make friends with everyone she met. Alicia had only ever spoken to Sam a couple of times. He had been quiet, kind of brooding and mysterious- the perfect match for Jessica's outgoing personality.  
Alicia had been devastated when she found out Jessica had died in an electrical fire in the apartment she and Sam shared. Alicia didn't even remember seeing Sam at Jessica's funeral. Anger flared up inside her. Just weeks before her death, Jessica had told Alicia that she and Sam had been talking seriously about their future and she thought Sam might propose to her. The young man who was supposedly going to marry Jess one day couldn't even make it for her funeral! Alicia took a deep breath and grabbed the jug of water and a plastic cup. It wasn't her job to judge Sam. It was her job to take care of him until his family arrived.

It was now early in the evening and Alicia still watched over Sam. She felt bad for her earlier anger. He seemed so sad, his shoulders slumped as he sat up, his head down and his eyes held a haunted look whenever he looked at her. Alicia had coaxed him into eating some chicken noodle soup, regardless of his protests. His mind seemed set on one thing and that was his brother. They sat in silence for a while until Head Nurse Hess told Alicia she needed to go.  
After changing into her civvies, Alicia grabbed her stuff and headed down the hall, looking forward for a late dinner with her fiancé. She was texting him on her phone so she didn't see when she ran right into that man.  
"Sorry," Alicia looked up to see a youngish man of average height with short cropped hair. He didn't even seem to notice she had run into him. Alicia shrugged and walked out.

I heard someone walking down the hall and stop just outside my room. Thinking it was that nurse again I pretended to sleep. When I didn't hear footsteps walking away I opened my eyes.  
"Dean," I said.  
"Sammy," Dean whispered from the doorway as though I would disappear if he raised his voice.  
I sat up and we regarded each other for what seemed an eternity...


	2. The Thing That Should Not Be

When the two Patterson police officers arrived at Lisa's front door and asked if I knew a Sam Winchester my first thought was that there had been a mistake. Sam was gone, he was in Hell and he was never coming back… but I figured I'd humour the officers if it would get them off my case.  
The police didn't tell me much on the drive over to the hospital. They only said a guy had been found out on County Road 9 and had he informed the hospital staff that he was related to a Dean Winchester.  
So, I figured I'd take one look at the guy and leave.  
I rushed down the hallway, a nurse on her cell phone ran right into me without looking up. I ignored her and practically dashed to the room... and stopped dead.  
There he was. Sam. My little brother. I stared at him, he stared at me.

"Dean," Sam said in a hoarse voice.

"Sammy," I whispered. I didn't dare speak louder, as though my brother would vanish if I did.

I leaned against the door frame for support. I took a deep breath, trying to get control of my emotions. I could feel tears in my eyes. Eighteen long months that felt like eighteen years without him and here he was sitting in a hospital bed only a few hours from where I lived.  
"You're really here," I said and my voice cracked.  
Sam was pale as a sheet and had dark circles beneath his eyes but he was alive.  
I walked into the room on stiff legs, sat down heavily in the chair set aside for visitors.  
"I'm so sorry Sammy," I whispered. I reached over and gripped his hand. Sam gave me a quizzical look but didn't move his hand. His dark green eyes had a haunted look to them. I can't explain it; I only recognized the expression because I see the same in my eyes every time I look in the mirror.  
"Don't be sorry, Dean, you didn't do anything," Sam said. He looked exhausted.  
"That's just it. I didn't do anything," I said quietly, still holding his hand as though to keep him from leaving again.  
Sammy just shook his head.  
"I should have done more to protect you," I argued.  
"It was my decision Dean. It was my choice to make. I knew the consequences and I went ahead with it anyway," Sam said with a sad smile.  
The sound of footsteps stopped us from further conversation when a youngish doctor entered the room and introduced himself as Irving.  
"Can I speak to you privately for a minute Mr. Winchester?" Irving spoke in a haughty voice I didn't care for.  
We walked out of the room; I did so reluctantly, and into the waiting room.  
"Your brother received a life-threatening puncture to his left lung. It collapsed but we were able to fix it. The two other chest wounds were not as severe but I would like to keep him here for at least five more days just for observation," Irving said.  
"Okay," I said. I kept glancing down the hall toward Sam's room.  
I nodded and said "yeah" as Irving kept talking. I was thinking about my brother. He was really Topside again. But how?  
Finally Irving shut up and I went back to Sam's room, relieved to find my brother still there.  
Once again I sat on the chair and spoke, "how are you back?  
"I don't know Dean, I really don't. One moment I was in Hell and the next I was in Stull Cemetery," Sam looked as confused as I felt.  
"There was no sign of angel activity?" I asked thinking that Cas may have bailed Sam out as he had done for me.  
"No, everything was untouched. You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?" Sam gazed at me seriously.  
"No! Don't you think I'd tell you if I found a Get Out Of Jail Free Card?" I sounded offended.  
"Maybe, maybe not," Sam said, sounding unconvinced.  
"I tried okay? I tried to get you out but I could find nothing. I even had Bobby-"  
"Bobby?" Sammy asked.  
It took me a second to remember that the last time Sam had seen Bobby Singer, the old hunter had been dead.  
"Yeah Sammy, Bobby's alive and as big a pain in the ass as ever. Cas too," I added. It looked as if a weight had been lifted from Sam's shoulders. He must have been carrying around that guilt since coming back.  
Sam smiled, "I'm glad they're okay."  
I glanced at the wall clock. It was getting late and Lisa would want me back soon.  
"I'd better get going. I'll come back tomorrow first thing and visit okay?" Sam nodded and I slowly made my way out of the room and down the hall. I could barely believe that Sam was really back. By all accounts he shouldn't be here but I wasn't complaining. The thing that bothered me though was why he was back.

The first while after Sam took the plunge was the hardest of my life. I was lost. I didn't know what to do. Sure, Lisa and Ben were there but I felt alone. I just kept playing that last day over and over in my head, going over what Sam and I had said to each other, what we didn't say...  
I was barely functioning when I arrived at Lisa's. It was all I could do not to breakdown and sob. Lisa tried to comfort me but she didn't really understand. No one understood. I just wanted to curl into a ball and wait for the end.  
Slowly, ever so slowly, I got back onto my feet. It was tough. Little things throughout the day would remind me of Sam or I would catch myself thinking 'hey, I'm sure Sam would like to hear about that' or whatever and everything would come flooding back like it had happened only yesterday.  
Sam was the first thing I thought about when I woke up and the last thing before I went to sleep.  
I began to question myself and the decisions I had made.  
Did I do the right thing by allowing Sam to say 'yes'? Should I have stopped him, refused to let him commit suicide? Could we have tried harder, looked deeper for a different way to defeat Lucifer?  
My guilt threatened to consume me. I couldn't take it anymore so I called up Bobby and asked him, demanded of him to research Hell and Lucifer and find anything that would help bring my brother back. Bobby tried, I know he did but there was no precedence for what Sam had done and so we were left with no real options on how to return him.  
I began to pray for Sam. Yeah, me, Mr. I Don't Believe In That Religious Crap, I prayed for Sam in a futile attempt that somehow it might help him.  
Now it seemed as though my prayers had been answered, and Sam was back. But who had answered my prayers?

Sam shouldn't be back. It seemed nearly impossible that he could be pulled from Lucifer's cage and dropped in the middle of an old cemetery in Lawrence.

"Dean? What is it?" Lisa asked as I walked in the front door. I had told her that I needed to go down to the Patterson Hospital but not why.  
"It's Sam. He's back," I said blankly.  
"Oh Dean," Lisa came over and hugged me tightly. I had told her a revised version of what had happened to Sam.  
"Is he alright?" Lisa asked, her face against my shoulder muffling her voice.  
"Yeah, he'll be alright. Hey, Lis, I hate to ask, but can Sam stay here awhile. Just until we can find better arrangements?" I looked down into her blue eyes.  
"Of course," Lisa smiled but I felt her tense.  
"Thanks babe," I kissed the top of her head.

A week passed and Sam and I were driving home from Patterson. Sam was not comfortable with the thought of staying with us.  
"I don't want to be an inconvenience," he protested weakly.  
"Sam, Lisa is fine with it and anyway, it's not indefinite. It's just until you're fully recovered," I knew Sam didn't like me treating him like he was a child but I couldn't help it. I couldn't lose him again.  
We stopped in the driveway and were silent for a moment. Sam looked less pale but he still looked like he had gotten only a few hours of sleep this week.  
"Are you okay?" I asked, seriously.  
"Yeah," Sam muttered.  
I scrutinized him for a moment and then decided that if Sam was going to tell me something, he'd let me know it eventually.  
"Here we go," I muttered and opened the truck door. Yeah, I drive a red Dodge pickup now.  
Sam and I walked up the short path and Lisa opened the door before I had a chance to touch the handle. We stepped inside.  
"Sam, it's a pleasure to see you again," Lisa smiled genuinely but I could see she was nervous.  
"It's good to see you again Lisa," Sam said and smiled back.  
Ben stared at Sam until Lisa nudged him.  
"Hullo," Ben mumbled, looking anywhere but at Sam.  
A strange look crossed Sam's face but then he crouched down, grimacing as the movement hurt and greeted Ben.  
"Mom, I've still got some homework to do," Ben looked at Lisa and she told him to go upstairs and finish it, then.  
Sam straightened himself and looked uncomfortable for a moment.  
"You two want some beer?" Lisa offered.  
"That'd be great," I said as I steered Sam into the living room. I sat down on the couch and Sam picked a chair. I had brought Sam up to speed on what I'd been doing while he'd 'been away'. I worked for a construction company now, a pretty respectable job and was personable with the neighbors. Ben and I were getting along great and he was really a terrific kid. Sam would smile and nod as I spoke but I could see he was distracted. He seemed really shaken up but I was hesitant to ask him about it. When I asked him how he'd ended up in the hospital with stab wounds he simply said 'it was a demon' and that was all he would tell me. He was very quiet, I mean more quiet than usual and that worried me.  
I'll admit I kind of exploded at him on the second visit. I was mad that he hadn't phoned me first thing and gave him a lecture on responsibility until I remembered that he had only twenty buck in his pocket when he returned. Before going into that old warehouse in Detroit Sam insisted he give me his cell phone and wallet after saying he 'wouldn't need them where he was going'. I had his laptop sitting on the desk in the tiny room we used as an office.  
Lisa returned with the beers (along with one for herself) and sat down beside me on the couch. I slid an arm over Lisa's shoulder and gulped down some beer.  
"So, Sam...what are your plans?" Lisa asked, trying to break the silence.  
Sam shrugged. "I'll probably take a couple of months to get my bearings and then I think I'll see about going back to school," Sam said. He was lying, I could see it on his face but I said nothing. We'd talk later.  
"School?" Lisa inquired and sipped her beer.  
"Yeah, I was pre-Law before...before everything," Sam shrugged again. I noticed he had not touched the drink, he just held it.  
"Well, I think you'll make an excellent lawyer," Lisa smiled.  
Soon the conversation turned to the party that we would be hosting on Saturday. I had completely forgotten that we had invited the neighbors over for a beginning-of-summer barbecue.  
"Ethan and Celeste are bringing the pasta salad and Lynn and Steve have the desert covered," Lisa checked off the list in her head.  
Sam sat quietly. I think he just liked listening to someone talk about something as mundane as a neighborhood party for once, something that didn't have to do with demons, or vampires or monsters...  
After a while Lisa moved into the kitchen to start dinner and Sam and I were left alone.  
"You okay?" I asked. I was on my third beer; Sam had not even touched his first.  
"Yeah," Sam said and straightened his shoulders so he wasn't hunched over.  
"'Cause you know you can talk to me if anything is bothering you," I looked him dead in the face. I wasn't joking when it came to Sammy's well being.  
"I know, I just need to take things slow for a little bit," Sam said and took a swig of his now-warm beer.  
Okay, I wasn't going to push him. I wasn't going to drive him away.  
Ben came downstairs and turned on the television. He channel surfed until he found Futurama. It was the episode where Fry trades hands with the Robot Devil so he can play the Holophoner and impress Lila.  
Sam watched the screen and I watched Sam, looking for a reaction of some sort. He was sitting very straight, his shoulders tense. His knuckles were white around the beer bottle. He gulped down the rest of his beer and stood.  
"Ben, turn that off will you? Read a book or something," I told the kid. Ben turned his head and looked at me, "but I finished all my homework."  
"You don't need to be watching this junk," I grabbed the remote off the coffee table and jabbed the OFF button. Immediately the TV screen went black. Ben huffed but trudged upstairs and came down seconds later with a book.  
Sam went into the kitchen to get rid of the bottle, asked Lisa if she needed help and after being politely refused, returned to the chair and sat.  
"What's up?" I said casually as I could.  
"Hm?" Sam grunted and looked at me.  
"You were white-knuckling it there for a second," I said. Sam wouldn't meet my gaze.  
"No I wasn't," Sam lied.  
"Yeah, you were. You were going to have a panic attack or something," I pushed, even though I said I wouldn't.  
"I am fine Dean," Sam said slowly.  
"Yeah, whatever."  
Sam looked up at me. I avoided his gaze.  
Sam sighed and leaned back in the chair.  
"Okay, Dean you can cook the steaks! The salad's ready, all it needs is dressing," Lisa called from the kitchen.  
I stood and motioned for Sam to follow me outside into the backyard. I grabbed the steaks on the way and prepped the barbecue.  
"You can't hold it in Sammy. If you keep it inside it's gonna act like poison and kill you," I said as I turned on the propane and waited for the grill to heat.  
"I know Dean, I know. I'm just not ready yet," Sam said and scuffed at some grass with his shoe.  
"It could help if you tell me about it. We could sort through it together," I ventured. Of course I knew Sam's experience in Hell would be different from mine (I didn't have to answer to one seriously pissed off ex-angel) but I figured I could listen to Sam and support him.  
The thing I was worried about was the fact that Sam had spent more time in Hell than I and that he technically was not dead when he took the leap. I was worried about Sam's mental state.  
Sam looked up. He wanted to tell me, I could see it on his face, but something was holding him back.  
The grill was heated to the right temp and I used a pair of tongs to slide the steaks onto it. We stood kind of awkwardly for a moment as the meat seared and sizzled, then I closed the lid.  
We didn't speak as I cooked. We listened to the sounds of the neighborhood instead: dogs barking, people greeting each other on the street, kids splashing in the pool two houses down...  
"Thank you Sam," I said as I peeked at the steaks.  
"For what?" Sam asked, looking confused.  
"For making me promise to come here after you left. I didn't realize it then but this is what I wanted all along. The white picket fence, the wife and kid... I always assumed I'd be a hunter until I died, I thought I wanted to be a hunter but that wasn't true. I wanted a normal life, like everyone else and you gave that to me. So, thank you Sam," I said without looking at my brother. I flipped the steaks and stared at my shoes.  
Sam said nothing. I didn't think he knew what to say. It wasn't often I stepped right into a chick-flick moment, but to tell the truth I was kind of in awe of my brother. He had sacrificed himself, had chosen to damn himself so that the six billion people on this Earth could live.  
"The steaks are done," I said so we could quit with the silence.

Lisa had made a Caesar salad, I had the steaks and we had beer (Ben got milk). I was starving. I heaped my plate with salad and chose a large steak. Lisa chose a small steak but a lot of salad: "I have to if I'm going to be near you tonight," she said jokingly.  
Sam had a small steak and a little salad. I knew he wasn't a big fan of red meat so I just shrugged it off.  
The conversation was halting and awkward. Lisa tried to be pleasant but I had a feeling Sam was kind of creeping her out. I felt bad for Sam.  
Ben spoke up once during dinner: "What was it like being dead?" he asked Sam.  
I watched as Sam nearly choked on his steak.  
Lisa cried "Benjamin!" and flicked her son hard on the arm for being rude.  
I looked at Sam and shook my head ever so slightly. What was he going to say?  
"To tell you the truth Ben, it was a lot like being asleep but for a long time," Sam gave the traditional answer parents give their kids when Fluffy or Spot die.  
Ben looked unconvinced but after a warning glare from his mom said nothing.  
Lisa looked at Sam apologetically.  
Sam shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

Lisa and I were lying together. It was just after midnight. Sam was in the guest bedroom in the basement and Ben was still up on his computer playing World of Warcraft or something like that. I was on my stomach with my eyes closed.  
"You okay?" Lisa whispered.  
"Hm...Yeah," I muttered into the pillow.  
"You're worried about your brother," Lisa said. She was lying on her side, facing me.  
"Yes," I answered. I was tired and wanted to sleep but I knew Lisa wanted to talk.  
"I don't understand what happened to him but even I can see he's very troubled," Lisa said. One of the things I loved about her was the fact she didn't go through life with her eyes closed, she paid attention to everything and everyone around her.  
"He's hurting and he won't admit it," I mumbled.  
I didn't know what to do. Sam had hardly eaten anything at dinner but claimed he wasn't hungry and he was more brooding and pensive than usual.  
"You need to speak to him about it," Lisa suggested.  
"But he won't talk; he shuts down when I try!" I said, louder than I meant to.  
Lisa touched my face with her fingertips, "he's your brother Dean. I can't tell you what to do but I can see that he's not doing well already. You have to do something for him before it's too late."  
"I just feel so helpless. I just want him to get better but I don't know what to do. I don't know who to call to make him better!" I whispered. I could feel hot tears running down my face.  
"Shhhh... you'll think of something. I know you will, now try and sleep," Lisa kissed my wet cheek and lay back down.  
Soon her breathing was slow and regular. She was sleeping deeply. I carefully climbed out of bed and padded down the hall. Ben's light was off so I knew he was asleep and that kid slept like a rock.  
I crept down the stairs, through the living room to the basement door. I walked down without turning on the lights.  
The basement was furnished with gray, speckled carpet, cream colored walls and had one main room, a laundry room, a half-bathroom with a sink and toilet and a smaller room Lisa used as a guest bedroom. I crept across the main room, past the old green couch, the Foosball table and peered into the guest room.  
I could just make out Sam's sleeping form from the light coming in through the tiny window above the bed. Sam lay on his back, his breathing fast and shallow. I eased into the room until I stood close to the bed. Sam was tangled in the sheets, the pillows on the floor, his face pinched-looking.  
As I watched, Sam groaned and rolled over onto his side, curling up as he did so into the fetal position. His breathing hitched for a moment and then resumed its fast pace. His hands were clenched up against his chest. I didn't want to wake him so I slowly, quietly went back upstairs and into bed beside Lisa.  
"How is he?" Lisa's voice made me jump.  
"He's not sleeping well," I said and lay on my back, thinking.

The next morning I woke early and made coffee before Ben and Lisa awoke. I seriously considered calling Bobby. I had told Bobby that Sam was back as soon as I returned home the first day I'd seen my brother in the hospital. For nearly an hour Bobby kept asking me if I was sure it was Sam, was I sure.  
'Yes', I had told him, 'I know what my own brother looks like!'  
'That's not what I meant Dean and you know it' Bobby had snapped back.  
I assured Bobby that it was Sam, it was, but now as I stood in the kitchen drinking black coffee with the warm summer sunlight on my back, I questioned whether it really was Sammy sleeping in the basement.  
I knew that it was Sam but, not Sam at the same time. I know that must not make much sense but I'll try and explain:  
It was Sam physically, and probably mentally and emotionally too, but he was not himself. He was damaged, he had brought something back with him from Hell that couldn't be seen or touched. I could sense it; this thing that I wasn't sure was really there. It was suffocating Sam, it wouldn't let him go. Sam was still a prisoner of Hell as if he was there physically. I just had to find a way to free him.  
Lisa shuffled into the kitchen in her blue silky housecoat and pink bunny slippers, her dark hair a tangled mess.  
"Morning Dean," Lisa kissed me and poured herself some coffee.  
"Do you work today?" she asked as she spooned sugar into the strong brew.  
"Nah, I got a few days off for a 'family emergency'," I said, I needed to look after Sammy.  
Lisa leaned her back against the counter, "I'll take Ben to school before I go into work so you can be with Sam."  
"I can take Ben," I protested.  
"No Dean," Lisa practically glared at me, "you need to be with your brother."  
"Yes ma'am," I smiled and kissed Lisa's cheek.  
"What's for breakfast?" Ben chirped from the upstairs hallway.  
"Your mom and I are going to have waffles but I know you don't like them so we're going to eat them all!" I shouted back upstairs.  
"Not if I get down there fast enough!" Ben shouted and I could hear him run into his room.  
I chuckled and checked the time. It was almost seven thirty. I should wake Sam.  
I set my coffee down and went downstairs. The basement was the perfect place to have a guest room; it was cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  
"Hey Sam, you awake?" I peered into the guest room and found Sam exactly as I had left him last night, curled up in a tight ball.  
I stepped into the room, "Sam?"  
He didn't move.  
"Sam!" I said a little louder.  
Still no reaction.  
I leaned close to Sam. I saw his hair was sopping wet and there was the sharp scent of sweat.  
"SAM!" I practically shouted.  
Sam's eyes jerked open and he punched me in the face.  
I staggered back a step, rubbing my sore chin.  
"Dean!" Sam said as though he was surprised to see me.  
"Who'd you expect?" I asked indignantly.  
Sam didn't answer.  
"Are you okay?" Sam looked at me sheepishly, "I'm sorry."  
"I'm fine," I said.  
Sam looked apologetic.  
"C'mon and have breakfast with us. I'm gonna make waffles," I walked to the door.  
"You, make waffles?" Sam laughed and sat up.  
"Yeah, I even mix the batter myself," I smiled. For just a moment Sam seemed like his old self again.

I went back upstairs and began making the waffles. I was distracted, what was I going to do with Sam until Lisa and Ben came home?  
"Dean! Careful, you're burning them" Lisa leaned over and lifted the lid of the waffle iron. The batter was a dark brown colour and blackened around the edges.  
"Sorry," I apologized.  
"Why don't I make breakfast today," Lisa said and scraped the burned mess into the garbage.  
I set the table as Lisa made the waffles. I sat and watched her as I drank my coffee. Ben bounded down the stairs and practically jumped into a chair.  
"Is all your homework done?" Lisa asked her son. Ben sighed, "yeah Mom."  
Just as Lisa was setting down the enormous plate of waffles Sam came up the stairs. He looked tired but I didn't say anything, what would be the point?  
Sam smiled and greeted Lisa and Ben warmly as he sat down.  
Lisa smiled back and offered him the plate of waffles first.  
Ben mumbled a conciliatory 'hullo'. What was wrong with the kid? He was never overtly rude like that.

Breakfast done, Lisa and Ben off to work and school, Sam and I did the dishes. I washed while he dried. I stared out the window over the sink at the front lawn. Watched the neighbours walk down the street, involved in their own lives, not knowing the person who had practically saved the world stood just a few yards away.  
I cleared my throat. I had to say something; I couldn't watch Sam suffer like this without speaking up.  
"Sammy, you know you can talk to me about what happened to you when you 'went away'" I said as I washed a plate.  
"I know Dean..." Sam said, he was staring out at old Mrs. Young walking her toy poodle Fifi.  
"I'm tired of avoiding the subject. You have to tell me, not everything right now but eventually I want to know what happened. We can go slowly if you need to, a little bit each day but you need to talk about it," I said. I handed Sam the plate and he dried it and put it into the cupboard.  
I was wondering if he was mad at me now. Not that I really cared, I thought he was being childish if he thought he could just keep it all inside.  
Without looking at me, Sam spoke: "Did you have nightmares? Ones so bad it was like you were still there?"  
"Yes."  
"Did you have flashbacks... when you were awake?"  
"I did."  
There was a pregnant pause. Sam wanted to continue talking but something held him back.  
"You're going to get through this Sam. When I came back I thought the memories would kill me, I just wanted them to stop. I never told you this, because I was afraid..." I spoke in a hushed voice, as if I was talking about something forbidden.  
"The memories didn't go away completely but they soon intruded into my thoughts less and less. I always had them at the back of my mind but after a while they stopped coming when I didn't want them to. The nightmares faded away and now I rarely have them," I was telling the truth. Of course I remembered my time in Hell, but it didn't eat away at me, it didn't control me.  
"On Sunday we'll drive up to Bobby's and see what he thinks, okay?" I promised him.  
Sam nodded and looked hopeful. I felt relieved. This thing he was carrying inside wouldn't consume him. I would not let it.

The rest of the day was less serious until Lisa called about some last minute things she wanted for the party on Saturday. Sam and I climbed into my truck and I drove toward the nearest Piggly Wiggly.  
"So," I began casually, "what are you thinking of doing now that you're Topside again?"  
"I am thinking of going back to school," Sam said. I thought he just said that to Lisa so he wouldn't seem like a total nut-job.  
"Why?" I asked, it came out rude.  
"I'm tired Dean. I don't think I can handle hunting anymore, I just want to be done with it all and get on with my life," Sam said and I looked over at him.  
"I am tired of being a pawn to everyone. I want to do something that's just for me. I mean, I can't live with you and Lisa and Ben forever! I want my own life; I want what you've found: the nice house in the quiet neighbourhood, a wife and kids, a real job..." Sam paused for a moment.  
"I want what we should have had if Mom hadn't died. I want to have a life that could have been before all this shit."  
I said nothing. I just nodded, I knew how he felt. I didn't want to hunt anymore...that was the old Dean. Now I was a new person, I had different things to think about, I didn't want to go back to driving hours on end and sleeping in the crappiest motels ever, living off bar food and nearly getting killed every other day. It had nothing to do with all the people we'd saved, heck, I loved THAT part of the job, but that was it...  
"Okay, you can go back to Stanford and pass the bar and become a hotshot lawyer and marry some lucky girl and have lots of kids," I said as I pulled into the grocery store parking lot.  
"I...I just don't think they'll let that happen," Sam whispered.  
"What?" I asked, what the hell was he talking about?  
I looked at Sam and he looked at me, confused.  
"Dean?" Sam asked, his green eyes full of concern.  
"You just said... never mind..." I was still worried about what Sam had said, what I thought he had said but I didn't see any point in troubling him about it.

The shopping trip took longer than I thought it would. The store was packed with people.  
"Okay, Lisa needs Neapolitan ice cream, more plastic forks, fruit punch and veggie burgers..." I read off the list as Sam and I moved through the crowds of shoppers.  
Sam walked just a little bit behind me as I pushed past people to the frozen food section.  
"You'd think their giving away free pork rinds or something..." I said to Sam and turned to find him gone.  
"Sam?" I said, looking over peoples' heads to see if he got left behind or something.  
I couldn't see him at all. Oh shit, I thought and pushed through the crowd of people.  
"Sammy! Sam?" I raised my voice and the shoppers around me glared.  
"Sam! Where are you?" I stepped on some fat guy's foot but I didn't care, I just kept looking for my brother.  
"Sam! Sammy!" I was kind of freaking out now.  
I pushed my way out of the store and looked around- and saw Sam sitting on the curb, head practically between his knees.  
"Sam! What the hell?" I marched up to him and crouched down.  
Sam didn't look up. He was breathing heavily, his shoulders actually trembled.  
"Sam? You okay?" I gripped his shoulder and forced him to look up.  
He was pale as a sheet and covered in sweat. He flinched away from my touch with a strangled cry. I saw on his face that he didn't recognize me. Oh fuck, what was going on?  
I released Sam's shoulder and just sat beside him. He hung his head and took deep, shuddering breaths.  
"What's going on with you?" I asked Sam, not expecting an answer.  
After a few moments Sam's breathing calmed and the trembling stopped. He looked up, confused to see me.  
"What happened?" he asked.  
"You disappeared and when I came outside you were freakin' hyperventilating," I said and stood.  
"You okay now?" I asked as Sam stood.  
"Yeah," Sam obviously had no idea what had just happened.  
"Why don't I get the stuff while you wait in the truck? It'll be faster if I do this by myself anyway," I said and tossed Sam the keys.  
Sam didn't argue but walked into the parking lot.

I got the groceries and then paused to phone Bobby.  
The phone rang once then I heard the familiar grumble, "yeah?"  
"Bobby? It's Dean," I said. I was standing with my back against the red brick of the grocery store.  
"What's up, boy?" Bobby asked.  
"Something weird is going on with Sam," I said.  
"What do you mean by 'weird'?" Bobby wanted to know.  
"He's different," I said, holding the grocery bag by a death-grip.  
"Care to extrapolate?" Bobby rumbled.  
I sighed, "he had a panic attack or something and when I went to check on him he...didn't recognize me. He was staring at me like I was going to hurt him or something…"  
Bobby said nothing for a long while.  
"You still there Bobby?" I asked. The ice cream must be melting by now but I didn't care.  
"Yeah, I'm still here. Is that all?" Bobby asked.  
"Well, he said something today. He was saying that he didn't want to hunt anymore, that he wanted to live a normal life and then he said 'I just don't think they'll let that happen'..."  
"Hm, I don't know Dean. I could look up some things but you know that Sam is the exception to the rule. You need to remember Dean; Sam was not dead when he went to Hell so it will certainly affect him differently than it did you. It may take Sam longer to recover," Bobby said.  
"Yeah, yeah I know. You still ready for us on Sunday?" I said, my hand was hurting from holding the bag so tight.  
"Yeah. I'll let you go Dean. You just keep an eye on Sam, you hear?"  
"I hear you Bobby," I said and hung up the phone.

When we got home Sam said he was tired and went downstairs to sleep. I grabbed a beer from the fridge, set Sam's laptop on the kitchen table and tried to do some research. I found absolutely nothing. There were no useful websites or articles that said anything about someone returning from Hell. After an hour of futile searching I shut the laptop and went into the living room to watch TV.

The next day Lisa's cousin Cecilia came over for a surprise visit, unfortunately she had brought her idiot husband, Tony, with her. Tony was a big guy, broad shouldered and barrel-chested. He prided himself on the fact that he used to play Varsity Football back in college but now he was just an insurance adjuster or broker or something. All of us were in the backyard, drinking beers and I was trying to keep Tony entertained. I hated the guy's guts but I had to be polite to him because he was married to Lisa's cousin and because Lisa was always deeply concerned with how her family would think of me- I needed to make a good impression.

Ben was kicking a soccer ball around with Cecilia and Tony's daughter, Stephanie. Everything was going well so far- Cecilia and Lisa were chatting and catching up and I was managing to keep Tony's small attention span occupied. Sam sat beside me. He was just listening to us, he didn't speak. He looked exhausted and I knew he'd spent another night sleeping poorly.

Tony and I walked into the house, through the screen door that led from the backyard to the living room and into the kitchen. Tony leaned against the counter and waited for me to get more beers from the fridge.

"What's the matter with him?" Tony said and jerked his thumb in the direction of the backyard, indicating my brother.

"Nothing," I answered quickly and grabbed the bottles, handing Tony one.

Tony took a swig of beer and looked closely at me, "nah, there is something wrong with him."

I turned around and began walking back through the house, holding the neck of my bottle tightly.

"Just drop it Tony," I muttered.

But Tony being Tony, he didn't drop it. He continued to ask about Sam, prying.

Sam now was watching Ben and Stephanie play. He didn't look threatening at all. He didn't look like there was really anything wrong with him either, other than that he looked exhausted.

Tony looked at me and raised an eyebrow, "maybe he's, uh, what do you call it, autistic?"

"There is nothing wrong with him," I snapped. I set my bottle of beer down on the picnic table and watched Tony carefully.

"Hey, don't worry about it Dean, I got a nephew who's retarded… you get one in every family I guess," Tony said thoughtfully.

"Tony, Sam is not like that," I said slowly so he'd understand. If Cecilia and Lisa and the kids hadn't been there I would have kicked Tony's ass. I was trying really hard to keep my temper in check.

"Dean, can you get me a beer please," Lisa asked and I stood. I was slightly uneasy about leaving Sam alone with Tony but decided that I would only be a second and besides, Lisa was there to make sure nothing happened.

I walked inside and right to the fridge, grabbed the beer, shut the door and paused. I took a beer out for Cecilia. I couldn't help but wonder how such a meek, kind-hearted woman had ended up with a gorilla like Tony. I shrugged and walked back toward the backyard. Before I made it outside though I heard Cecilia shriek and I ran the rest of the way.

I stopped just in time to see Sam punch Tony in the face. Both men were standing, Tony had apparently confronted Sam. Cecilia's husband was shorter than Sam but broader. Blood was already running down Tony's chin from a broken nose. Tony took a swipe at Sam with a fist the size of a canned ham but my brother dodged it and Tony became unbalanced and staggered.

Tony, in an attempt to steady himself, reached out and grabbed Sam's injured shoulder. My brother cried out in pain as Tony held on tightly. I snapped out of my shock and dropping the bottles onto the grass, ran in and pulled Tony away from Sam and then went to my brother.

Lisa and Cecilia ran to Tony as though he had been jumped by a whole mob instead of being hit by a single man.

I caught sight of Lisa's glare directed at me as I brought Sam inside. Ben came in after us and told us that they were taking Tony to the hospital. I didn't care. Ben went into the living room and turned on the TV. I led Sam to the kitchen and examined him.

"He… he said…" Sam tried to explain but I shook my head.

"It's okay Sammy," I took Sam's hand. The knuckles were torn up from punching Tony in the teeth.

"It's about time someone did that to the old douchebag," I said and ran Sam's hand under cold water from the sink.

Sam appeared to be in shock, sort of. He was breathing heavily, his eyes were unfocused.

I left Sam in the kitchen, water running over his hand and went to grab the hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom.

When I returned Sam was standing exactly as I had left him. He hadn't moved an inch.

I dried off Sam's hand with a paper towel and poured some peroxide over the cuts; now that they were clean I saw that they were not very deep at all. Sam's expression didn't change when the peroxide touched the wounds. I know that stuff stings but Sam didn't seem to feel it.

Next I pulled up Sam's shirt to check on his shoulder. It was still bandaged and there was a little bit of blood staining the gauze. I took Sam to the upstairs bathroom, had him sit on the toilet seat and replaced the bandaging using some gauze I found stashed in the far corner of the cupboard.

I was surprised that Sam was even letting me pay this much attention to him- normally he'd just say that he was alright and deal with any injuries himself- so I knew he must really be in bad shape.

We went back downstairs and sat in the living room, watching NASCAR with Ben until the front door opened and Lisa stalked inside around nine in the evening. She had spent most of the day waiting with Tony and Cecilia and Stephanie at the hospital.

"Dean," Lisa came into the living room and said my name in a way I knew she was looking to tear a strip off me.

Lisa and I went into the kitchen. Sam was sitting in the living room still, he hadn't said anything nor made any indication that he was there at all. Ben had gone upstairs to do some homework and play computer games- not necessarily in that order.

"Tony's nose was broken and one of his front teeth is chipped. He needed six stitches in his chin," Lisa told me. No wonder she was home so late- if you're not dying the doctors make you wait for hours.

"Too bad for him," I said, I could care less about Tony. The prick deserved it.

"Dean!" Lisa exclaimed.

"Just so you know, Sam's practically in shock from whatever that asshole said to him," I said defensively.

"Sam attacked Tony, Dean. You didn't see it, Tony was just talking to him and Sam hit him," Lisa said.

"I doubt that Tony was 'just talking' Lisa. He was asking me if Sam was… mentally handicapped… you know… autistic or retarded or something like that…" I explained.

Lisa didn't think that was any reason for Sam to punch Tony.

Lisa glanced into the living room at Sam with trepidation.

"He was defending himself Lisa," I tried to explain why Sam would act the way he had.

"Defending himself? From Tony?" Lisa asked, she didn't think Tony was anything but a big, dumb teddy bear.

I sighed, "Sam was protecting himself the only way he knew how to at the time."

Sam being so recently liberated from Hell, needed time to adjust back into a normal life. I had been thinking about what Sam had done, remembering when he'd punched me in the face when I had scared him while he'd been asleep. I could only guess that while in Hell, Sam had been unable to defend himself from Lucifer, he had never gotten a chance to fight back against the fallen angel and now that Sam was Topside again he was unconsciously lashing out at anyone he saw as a threat. In some subconscious way Sam was getting his chance to fight back now against all the horror that had been thrust upon him while in Lucifer's prison.

"I don't want him in the house Dean," Lisa said in a harsh voice. She was afraid of what Sam could do if he saw Ben or her as a threat.

"Just until the end of the week Lisa. I'm going to take him to a friend's place on Sunday," I promised.

Lisa looked at me soberly, "until then you had better watch him like a hawk."

Lisa left the kitchen and went straight upstairs.

That night I slept on the couch in the living room, giving Lisa some breathing space.

I felt terrible about Sam. I felt bad about what he'd done- what would have happened if he had attacked someone else instead of Tony? I felt bad that this was what Sam was reduced to- almost like a dog that had been abused and bites anyone who comes near, even those people trying to help- a bad comparison I know, but that was the only one that seemed apt. I just hoped that Sam would be alright at the party on Saturday.

The rest of the week passed relatively uneventfully. Sam still didn't seem well but he didn't say anything about it and all I could think was that we'd soon be at Bobby's and then we'd help Sam. When Saturday rolled around I was nervous, Sam was clearly uncomfortable being around large groups of people and that was exactly what a party was. In the morning I assured Sam that he didn't have to hang out, that he could come inside if he needed to. I know I was acting as though Sam was an invalid but I didn't want to have him freak out in front of the neighbours, for his sake, not theirs. Lisa was very uneasy about Sam being at the party after what had happened with Tony but I assured her that I had everything under control, Sam would be alright. Nothing was going to happen today. Ben helped Lisa set up the picnic table in the backyard and prepare the food and drinks. I offered to help but Lisa said I didn't have to, that I could stay with Sam. The day was very warm and bright, the perfect day for a party.

Around two in the afternoon the guests began to arrive: Lynne and Steve, Teresa, Celeste and Ethan, Mrs. Young, and a dozen more people.

Sam, Lisa, Ben and I went out into the backyard and hung around. Ben was playing a mini soccer game with his best friend, Matty and a couple of other boys. Lisa chatted amicably with the girls from the neighbourhood. I was surrounded by a group of guys, laughing and goofing around. Sam was standing to one side, almost as though he was shunned but looking like he didn't mind it. Of course I had introduced him to every one of the guests but it was almost like they sensed he was different from them and they sort of ignored him after the appropriate niceties had been observed.

The guys burst into laughter just as I had finished telling an off-colour joke and I slipped away to check up on my brother.

"How're you doing?" I asked. Sam looked as though he was trying to act casual; he held a full bottle of beer in one hand.

Sam shrugged, "this is a piece of cake."

"You know you don't have to stay out here," I said and took a gulp of my own beer.

Sam still looked tired. I wasn't sure how much quality sleep he was getting but by the dark circles under his eyes I could guess it wasn't much.

I was kind of worried someone would say something, even in jest, that might trigger Sam but so far everything was peachy.

"Hey Dean! C'mere," Ethan called and I glanced once more at Sam and went back to the guys.

After a while I kind of forgot that Sam was there, I know it sounds bad, but he was so quiet that I ceased to think about him.

When I looked for Sam again I didn't see him.

Shit, I thought and walked over to where Lisa was talking with her girlfriends.

"Lis, did you see Sam?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

I looked around the yard again and I saw Calvin Werner walking over to me with a confused expression.

"What's up?" I said, distracted. I had no idea where Sam was.

"Your brother," Calvin said. He was a professor at a nearby university.

I raised an eyebrow and waited.

"He's a smart kid," Calvin said. The guy had to be sixty and he called everyone 'kid'.

"Uh huh," I wasn't sure where this was going.

"But he's uh… a little odd…" Calvin looked apologetic.

"What'd you say?" I asked rudely.

"I don't know! One minute we were talking and the next thing I know he's headed to the house like I'd offended him or something or said something wrong," Calvin said and looked at me as though I could explain.

"Don't worry about it," I said. Calvin had obviously said something that had made Sam uncomfortable and my brother had decided to get away from the situation.

Calvin looked at me and shrugged. He walked over to the group of guys and began talking with them.

At least it was Calvin and not one of those Neanderthals, I thought with gratitude. I'd imagine those guys wouldn't be as polite about it if Sam freaked out on them.

I stepped inside. Sam wasn't in the living room or the kitchen and I knew he wouldn't go upstairs so I headed down to the basement.

Sam was in the guest bedroom. He was sitting on the end of the bed, his breathing a little more fast-paced than normal. He looked up when he heard me and had an embarrassed expression on his face.

I wasn't going to ask him what had set him off. Maybe it was something Calvin had said or maybe it was being around so many people, it didn't matter.

"I'm kind of tired, Dean," Sam said before I could speak.

"Okay, do you want me to call you when dinner's ready?" I asked.

Sam shook his head.

I sighed, "Okay, feel free to come back to the party if you're feeling up to it."

I left Sam and returned to the backyard.

Time passed and when Lisa asked me to start barbecuing the hamburgers and hotdogs I went back inside to call Sam. When I entered the living room I heard Ben's voice from the yard.

"Hey Dean!" he called from just beyond the screened-door.  
"Hey Ben," I called back.  
Ben walked into the room, smiling.  
"Enjoying the party?" I asked.  
"Yeah," Ben said and flopped down on the couch. He looked around for a moment, then looking conspiratorial, said, "can I tell you something?"  
"Yeah," I said and turned to him.  
Ben moved closer to me on the couch, but not too close and looked a little suspicious, "you won't tell Mom I told you this, will you? And you won't be mad at me either?"  
"No," I scoffed.  
Ben looked me right in the face and said, "your brother is sick."  
I sat still for a moment. Ben glanced at me furtively.  
"What?" I asked Ben. I could have sworn he said Sam was sick but I couldn't be sure.  
"Sam is sick, Dean."  
I immediately thought that maybe Lisa had said something to Ben about Sam. What gave her the right?  
"Did your Mom say something to you about Sam?" I said, a little angrier than I had meant to.  
"No!" Ben protested.  
"Then how do you figure Sam's ill?" I asked, Ben looked a little scared.  
"I don't know... he just doesn't seem...human-" Ben said and I stood up. Now I was mad.  
I opened my mouth and closed it. I didn't know what to say.  
"There's something wrong with him! He's evil, Dean..." Ben said, as though he needed to say this before it was too late.  
I stalked into the kitchen and leaned over the sink. Ben followed, he sounded close to tears.  
"I'm scared of him Dean. Why did you bring him here, Dean? Why?" Ben cried.  
I took a few deep breaths. I was trying not to think, trying not to think of the possibility that Lucifer still possessed Sam. Oh God, everything was so fucked up I didn't know what to think.  
"I'm going to leave. I am going to take Sam and we're going to go to a friend's place and get Sam better," I whispered.  
I could hear Ben's harsh breathing behind me.  
I straightened my back and walked past Ben toward the basement.  
Something must be wrong. Ben wasn't the type of kid to make up stories to get attention and he looked genuinely frightened.  
I stomped down the stairs, not caring if I made noise.  
I walked through the game room and saw that the door to the guest bedroom was closed. As I stood before the door I stopped: when I opened the door would I see Sam, or... something else?  
I held my breath, gripped the doorknob and pulled the door open...


	3. Slipping Away

Chapter Three: Slipping Away

...and there was Sam, sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair the way he did when he was bothered by something. He looked completely normal, like my little brother but I had to be sure. I had to be.

"We're going to Bobby's. Now," I said and walked through the basement, Sam following.

As I stood in the front hall, grabbing the truck keys and pulling on my boots I didn't see Ben, he must be back outside. I could hear the sounds from the party, laughter and chatting but I ignored them- I needed to know for sure what was wrong with my brother. Once Sam had his shoes on we stepped outside into the warm early evening air. I unlocked the truck and got into the driver's seat, Sam, as usual took shotgun.

I started the engine and Metallica blasted from the speakers: Some Kind of Monster.

I navigated out of the driveway and started down the street.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked, confused.

"Shut up," I snapped and Sam glanced at me, frustrated and scared. Scared of me? That should have tipped me off immediately that Sam was just Sam but no; as usual I dove into things headfirst without bothering to look where I was going.

We had been driving for twenty minutes in silence, Metallica the only noise, when my cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

I fished the phone out.

"Yeah?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Dean, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Lisa's voice asked from the other end, clearly angry.

"I'm going to Bobby's. I told Ben-" I began but Lisa cut me off.

"No, you didn't. Ben came outside and said your brother were gone," Lisa said.

"Ben should have told you that I was taking Sam to a friend's place," I said, gripping the phone tightly.

"I don't know what games you're playing Dean but they are not amusing. You have been acting strange ever since you brought Sam here. You have to choose Dean, me or him. You can't have both of us," Lisa practically snarled into the phone.

"Let me talk to Ben," I said, still focused on the road.

"Why should I?" Lisa said, indignant.

"I want to apologize," I said and I heard Lisa give her son the phone.

"Hey Dean," Ben's voice said.

"Ben, why didn't you tell your Mom we were leaving? Didn't you tell me something was wrong with Sam, that he was evil?" I asked. Say yes, I demanded of him silently.

"Uh huh. I just didn't want to get into trouble Dean… I was scared."

"Okay," I said and closed the phone and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans.

"SON OF A BITCH!" I shouted and slammed my fists down on the steering wheel.

I looked over at Sam and saw only Sam. Nothing more. He looked pale and tired but it was only him. His green eyes showed worry and a little fear. Why could nothing go right for us? Just for once?

"Sammy, I'm sorry. I've been a complete dick these past few days," I felt like an idiot.

"I haven't been brother-of-the-month either Dean," Sam said, he looked ill.

"No, it's not your fault. You're not well and I haven't been paying attention to that," I said.

Sam shrugged. No biggie.

We drove until it grew dark. Sam fell asleep, his head against the passenger window, muttering words I couldn't hear. 'The Memory Remains' played; I tapped the steering wheel with one hand in time with the music.

All I wanted to do was get to Bobby's.

Sam woke with a start, "stop the truck Dean. I'm gonna be sick."

Tires screeching I stopped the vehicle and Sam opened the door and leaned out. I was silently glad that I had chosen the less traveled back-roads instead of the highway.

Sam threw up sour bile all over the asphalt. He was trembling.

After what seemed like hours Sam wiped his mouth and closed the door.

"You okay?" I asked, knowing he wasn't.

Sam muttered, "yeah" and closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I drove the pickup into Bobby's car graveyard. The old hunter stood on the porch, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sam, we're here," I gently shook my brother's shoulder. He jerked awake, a look of confusion on his face until he realized where he was and relaxed.

I stepped out of the truck and Bobby stepped forward to give me a cursory hug. Sam stood behind me, hesitant.

Bobby approached Sam and embraced him like the prodigal son returned. Over Bobby's shoulder I could see Sam's face: he was smiling, the happiest I had seen him since he had been brought back by whomever.

"Good to see you Sam," Bobby said and released Sam.

We followed Bobby inside. Sam went immediately to the large collection of books in the living room and picked up a rather thick tome and began flipping through the pages.

Bobby and I went into the kitchen, the fluorescent glare a sharp contrast to the dimly lit living room.

"You boys'd be hungry I expect," Bobby rumbled.

"Starving," I said.

Bobby fished two beers out of the fridge, handed one to me and kept the other for himself. Then he took frozen lasagna from the freezer and pre-heated his old, beat up oven.

Bobby and I stood in the kitchen and talked about Sam. I told Bobby he was still having nightmares but no more panic attacks, I didn't really consider what had happened at the party a panic attack per se.

Bobby sipped at his beer and nodded, "I did a little research using the symptoms you gave me and I'm no doctor but I think Sam has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

I looked at Bobby oddly. I was under the impression only war veterans got that.

"The symptoms fit Dean," Bobby said as he put the lasagna in the oven, "more than a few hunters have ended up with it, the stress gets to them, and the things they've seen, had to do…"

"So, how do we fix it?" I asked. I looked in at Sam, sitting on the edge of the couch, reading that book as if his life depended upon deciphering its secrets.

"Medication and trauma therapy, but I think we can skip the therapy. They'd lock Sam in a rubber room and throw away the key if he told what he'd been through."

I was relieved. Sam would be fine; all he needed was some medicine.

"But medicine ain't going to fix it permanently Dean. The memories will always be there," Bobby said and tapped the side of his head with an index finger. What exactly was Bobby implying?

Another thought occurred to me and it must have shown on my face because Bobby asked, "What is it boy?"

"Do you think a lack of interest in food and short-term memory loss are symptoms of PTSD?"

Bobby shrugged, maybe "it can cause a lack of interest in life in general but I'm not sure about the short-term memory loss."

I went into the living room to tell Sam the 'good' news. He wasn't that surprised, he had learned about PTSD in a freshman psych course.

Suddenly, one of Bobby's phones rang and all three of us jumped. Bobby grabbed the phone.

A pause.

"No Rufus, this is not a good time!"

Longer pause.

"Oh God…you're sure?"

I could see Bobby nod, pause, nod again.

"Well then I guess you better get over here."

Bobby hung up the phone and walked into the living room, grim- faced.

"Someone wiped a village called Angel Fire, New Mexico off the map," Bobby said. He didn't sugar-coat it.

"What!" I exclaimed.

Sam stood up, concern etched on his face.

"Rufus didn't wanna talk on the phone but it appears someone killed most everyone in that village. Burned their eyes from their heads," Bobby gave Sam and I a pointed look.

"Angels? Why would they do that? I mean, the Apocalypse is over so there'd be no point," Sam said, he looked troubled.

"I'm going to get some answers," I said and slipped outside, walking deep into the maze of Bobby's salvage yard.

The evening was cool and I could see my breath plume out white in front of me.

I looked up and saw that the sky was clear; I could make out the Big Dipper and Orion's Belt. Polaris shone the brightest.

"Castiel, get your feathery ass down here! We need to talk!" I shouted up at the stars.

Nothing happened.

I opened my mouth to shout again when a gravelly voice greeted me.

"Hello Dean," Cas was standing behind me.

I turned around. The angel looked the same as he had a year and a half ago.

"What the fuck are you guys doing up there?" I demanded.

"What-" Cas began but I answered before he could finish his question.

"One of your buddies just 'nuked a whole frigging town in New Mexico that's what," I snarled.

"No, no angel would not have done such a thing. There are bigger concerns in Heaven right now than smiting a town," Cas said. Yeah, he actually said 'smiting'.

"Well Cas I don't know who else burns peoples' eyes out of their heads but angels so maybe you didn't get the memo," I growled.

"It was not one of the angels in Heaven…but it may have been a fallen one," Cas looked thoughtful now.

"A what?" I asked rudely.

"A fallen angel, Dean. More particularly an angel who was in Hell, one of Lucifer's original followers," Cas said, looking like he was talking more to himself than to me.

"So a fallen angel just waltzes out of Hell to burn out some unlucky skiers eyes just for shits and giggles?" I raised my hands in mock realization.

Cas gave me a withering look.

"You have no inclination of the seriousness of this event, do you?" Cas answered, feathers ruffled (pardon the pun).

"Why don't you enlighten me then?" I said sarcastically.

Cas looked like he about to do just that when I interrupted him.

"We should talk inside, Sam and Bobby will want to hear this," I said and began to walk back the way I had come.

"Sam? Your brother?" Cas asked, he had not moved.

"No, Sam Elliot! Of course my brother! What other Sam would I be talking about?" I asked rhetorically, annoyed.

The angel followed me this time. His blue eyes full of an emotion I could not identify. Worry, maybe? No, something deeper, stronger…

When we entered the house Cas greeted Bobby with a gravelly, "hello."

Sam, who was still sitting on the couch, looked extremely uncomfortable. He looked like he wanted to just melt into the floor rather than face the angel.

Cas approached Sam slowly, almost cautiously, as if Sam was a wild animal that would attack or run if startled.

Sam remained motionless. Bobby and I were silent, watching this strange act play out.

My brother spoke first, "Cas…I…"

Cas said nothing, but he did something unexpected. He reached out and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder in a gesture that was decidedly paternal. I felt myself tense even though I had no idea what was going to happen.

Again Cas surprised me by leaning forward and whispering something I couldn't discern to Sam. What was Cas saying? I wanted to know.

Cas released Sam's shoulder and took a step back, Sam looked up at the angel and they seemed to share some sort of communication that escaped me.

Cas turned to me and said, "We need to talk."

"The fallen angels, the original ones, were followers of Lucifer during the war. These angels are innumerable by human standards but were not so many as compared to Michael's army…it appears that when Sam was brought back, whomever brought him back, allowed a connection to be made between Hell and Earth, a bridge if you will. It appears that a multitude of Lucifer's original soldiers may have been able to cross from Hell into Earth for an unknown purpose," Cas explained.

I tried to get him to answer more but he wouldn't, he wanted us to wait before he could sort out what was going on himself.

Great, I thought, now we have to deal with a shit-ton of fallen angels whom I was sure were just as pleasant as their heavenly counterparts.

Cas was stalling, I knew it. But why? What didn't he want us to know?

When the lasagna was done we sat at the kitchen table and ate even though no one was hungry after the news we'd so recently received.

Bobby polished off three large pieces and two beers. I wolfed down four pieces of lasagna and made sure that Sam ate.

I hated treating him like a child but he had to eat. Sam managed to finish one piece of the lasagna even though I could tell he was having difficulty keeping it down. Cas ate and drank nothing.

As we put the dirty dishes into Bobby's ancient dishwasher the doorbell rang. It was Rufus.

The old black hunter stepped inside along with a blast of cool air. His lips were pursed in a frown.

He greeted Bobby cordially for once. He was obviously very shaken up by what had happened.

"Dean, good to see you son, despite the circumstances," Rufus clapped a hand of my shoulder and turned and saw Sam.

If the mood hadn't been so grim I might have laughed when the old hunter did a double take. Rufus recovered though, and said, "Sam, mighty good to see you boy."

Rufus looked at Cas, who was standing inconspicuously on the far side of Bobby's desk, and jerked a thumb in the angel's direction.

"He's with us," I said to Rufus. Just ignore the angel in the corner.

"So do you have any more information for us," Sam asked, he had taken up his place on the couch again. He must be really tired if he was spending most of his time sitting.

"Well, the governor is saying it's a terrorist attack but we all know it's a load of horseshit. There's been a State of Emergency called for all of Colfax County and they have the FBI, CIA, Homeland Security and some egghead doctors from the CDC over in Angel Fire all dressed up in those space-men type suits carrying off bodies and poking around where they don't belong," Rufus said, after Bobby offered him a beer.

Bobby nodded.

"I don't know about all y'all but it looks to me to be the work of some big-shot demon or something of the like," Rufus suggested and took a swig of beer.

"I'll tell him," Bobby said and took Rufus into the kitchen to give the other hunter a short lecture on angels.

When Bobby and Rufus returned to the living room I turned to Cas.

"Okay, spill. What's going on?" I asked.

Cas looked uncomfortable and ashamed.

"I believe Raphael may have something to do with the murder of those people," the angel said.

Oh wonderful, I thought, Raphael was the mastermind behind this.

"When I returned to Heaven, 'a year and a half ago' by your time, Heaven was in chaos. No one knew who was in charge after Michael ended up in Hell…Raphael, though, decided that since Michael was indisposed and God was missing, with Gabriel and Uriel dead, he should take up the position so recently vacated and rule Heaven," Cas paused, he looked upset.

"There are many who agree with Raphael, either out of fear of him or for their avarice for power. Myself and others know that Raphael cannot, must not rule for if he does he will rule with an iron fist that will not show compassion to his brothers and sisters, and least of all, humans. If Raphael rules he will continue where Lucifer was interrupted and finish the Apocalypse. The fallen angels will surely side with Raphael and help him to succeed," Cas looked at the floor, as if the carpet had suddenly become fascinating.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked. Then I remembered that Cas had been trying to tell me, before I interrupted him.

"I was ashamed of my siblings," Cas said, not looking up.

"This is too friggin' weird for me Bobby," Rufus muttered and drained his beer. Near the beginning of the angel's explanation the two old hunters had returned to the living room.

Rufus turned to go into the kitchen when his cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" Rufus asked when he fished it from his shirt pocket.

"Really? Your shittin' me! Okay, okay… well I'll tell Bobby. Thanks."

Rufus closed his phone.

"Seems there is only one person in Angel Falls who can't be accounted for: A Mr. Stephen Grey. Other folks from the village weren't there, out of town and whatnot but not Mr. Grey…" Rufus said, looking expectantly at us for a sign.

"Cas, you don't think…?" Sam asked the angel.

"It is very likely that the fallen angel has found his vessel," Cas said, now lifting his head.

Rufus cleared his throat. We all turned to him.

"The Feds found a survivor as well-" Rufus was interrupted by Bobby.

"Well shit Rufus, don't tell us this right away!"

"It's a young woman. Don't know how she escaped but they have her at a hospital in Albuquerque," Rufus said.

"Okay, in the morning you three will go to Albuquerque and interview the girl and then go to Angel Fire to see what you can find," Bobby said, planning on the spot.

"I can go to Angel Fire within seconds. Do reconnaissance-" Cas began but I stopped him.

"You are staying here Cas," I ordered.

"Dean-"

I interrupted the angel again, "You. Stay. Here."

Cas looked annoyed but didn't argue again.

"I s'pose you boys should be getting some sleep. You're in for a busy day tomorrow," Bobby said and Rufus made to go to the front door.

Sam stood and the front picture window exploded in a spray of glass shrapnel.

I dove to the ground in cover- landing on my hands and knees. I saw Bobby and Rufus grab guns and run outside.

Sam landed heavily near me. Something was wrong.

He was on his side, facing away from me.

"Sam?" I asked as I rolled him onto his back. The sounds of bullets whistling inches over our heads went unnoticed.

I felt my heart skip a beat as I saw a patch of red growing on Sam's shirt, just to the right of his heart.

"Oh fuck!" I shouted and placed one hand over the wound. Sam's blood was hot underneath my fingers.

The gunfire had now turned away from the house and was concentrated in the junkyard.

Sam's face was as pale as I had ever seen it, almost grey. With every breath he took more blood seeped out. He was dying with every beat of his heart.

"Stay with me Sammy!" I shouted. I looked into his eyes and saw only a great, despairing terror. He knew he was dying. He was afraid he was bound for Hell again.

Sam reached up and grabbed a fistful of my shirt, he pulled me close.

His mouth moved but no sound came out, only blood.

I pressed down harder on my brother's chest.

"Come on Sam! Don't you dare die on me! Don't you dare leave me!" I shouted, tears running down my cheeks.

Sam's breathing hitched, started, and hitched again.

No, don't you die. What am I supposed to do without you?

No No No NoNoNoNo…

"Cas! Help me! Save him!" I shouted at the angel.

Cas watched from behind the desk. He had a sorrowful look on his face.

I watched as Sam's eyes went dull, the life in them gone. Sam was gone. Was he a prisoner of Hell once more?

"Sam?" I shook my brother's shoulder but there was no response.

"Sammy!" I shook harder. He was really gone…

The sounds of gunfire had ceased but I took no notice. I took my hand away from Sam's still chest.

Sharp pieces of glass crunched under my legs as I sat back. I stared at my brother, willing him to come back.

Cas didn't speak, nor did he move.

I took no notice as the hot tears continued to flow from my eyes. It was That Day all over again, the day Sam had taken the plunge into Hell.

"Cas," I said, hoarse.

"Do not ask me Dean," Cas's reply was.

"Fix him. Bring him back!" I shouted. I felt a cold, hard ball of grief begin to grow in the pit of my stomach. I knew it would grow like a tumor until it consumed me as it had been threatening to do for the past eighteen months.

"I can't Dean," the angel's quiet answer came. I looked up and saw that Cas's blue eyes were filled with tears.

"Can't or won't?" I demanded, I stood up and took a step toward him. Glass stung my feet, clad in only socks.

"Why?" I wanted to know. What was such priority to Cas that he couldn't bring Sam back like he'd done for Bobby or me?

"I have been ordered not to touch Sam Winchester," Cas said, his voice thick with emotion.

"I don't care! Bring him back you son of a bitch!" I snarled.

I felt like screaming and never stopping.

"What-" Bobby's voice came from behind me, "oh no. Oh Dean."

I heard Rufus swear behind me.

I ignored them both, they couldn't help Sam.

"Please Cas, please for God's sake," I begged, step by step coming closer to the angel.

"I must not interfere with this," Cas said and I looked up to see his tears spill over. He turned around so I couldn't see he was crying.

I crumpled to the floor in a heap. No one moved. On my hands and knees again I went to Sam and huddled beside him.

I reached out and with one blood smeared hand, closed Sam's eyes.

"Who was it? Who killed Sammy?" I croaked.

"Hunters," Bobby said shortly.

I clenched my hands into fists, ignoring the pain as bits of glass dug into my palms and fingers. I relished the physical pain; it numbed the pain I felt inside.

I don't know how long I sat there, beside Sam's body, but a long time after, cold grey light slid across the room.

In my grief-induced trance I hadn't even noticed when Rufus left to return home and Bobby went upstairs. Cas stood behind the desk all night. A silent sentinel to my grief.

Bobby crept downstairs just as the light outside was turning golden and turned on the coffee maker.

I didn't hear as Bobby walked gingerly into the living room.

"Dean, we have to take care of Sam," Bobby whispered. It sounded loud in the quiet morning.

"No," I whispered.

"Oh okay, fine. We'll leave Sam here; see how well that works out. Maybe start a new decoration craze," Bobby said sarcastically, trying to jolt me out of my cocoon of pain.

I glared at Bobby for a moment then turned my gaze to Cas, pleading silently.

"I may be able to bring Sam back trough a loophole. I need to speak to someone first though," Cas said and disappeared in a gust of cold air.

"Let's get you cleaned up Dean," Bobby said and reached down with one hand.

I slowly accepted, and allowed Bobby to clean my hands and knees in the kitchen sink. The whole time I stared at Sam's body as if waiting for him to wake up from sleep.

Cas was gone for the entire day. I moved around the house in a fog. Bobby cleaned up the front room and but I wouldn't allow the old hunter to move my brother's body. Bobby said nothing to me as I sat on the couch and watched over Sam's body. In my pain I forgot that he too, was grieving.

I don't know how many cups of coffee I drank, I lost count at seven…

"If Cas can't bring him back Dean, what do you want to do with Sam?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know Bobby," I whispered.

Bobby squeezed my shoulder, trying to comfort.

"Do you think he's in Hell?" I asked. I didn't really want to know but I had a bad feeling he was back in the Pit.

"I'm sure he's fine Dean," Bobby said. I don't think he believed what he was saying.

I took no notice when Bobby went into the kitchen to re-heat last night's lasagna. I didn't eat when the old hunter brought a plate out to me.

What was taking Cas so long?

What was I going to do now?

Should I go back and be with Lisa and Ben?

What about Sam? I would never see him again.

Questions swirled sluggishly through my mind as I waited for Cas. Hoping against hope that there would be a way of saving Sam that didn't involve Cas getting fired, or whatever…

I didn't notice Cas and another person enter the room until the angel touched me gently on the shoulder.

"Dean, this is Abdiel. He's going to help," Cas said slowly, enunciating each word…


	4. The Catalyst

Hell. Again. Not Lucifer's Cage this time, not that the thought provided any comfort. There were enough demons outside of the Devil's prison who wanted revenge that made up for that.

I don't know how long I was in Hell. Time drags on there, months are years. Not that time matters when you're dead.

The pain was all-consuming. I couldn't think, at least I couldn't think about anything but the pain.

I was sure I was going to go insane.

Then, in my world of agony and terror something remarkable happened. The pain ceased. I don't have a clear memory of what happened but I remember the instant the pain left. Then I experienced the strongest sense of vertigo I ever had and I opened my eyes.

I was lying on my back, looking up at a bright blue sky. The sun shone strongly and I could hear birds singing.

I could feel dry grass underneath me. I sat up and looked around. I was in a field. Where, I didn't know.

Suddenly the sound of pounding feet alerted me and I saw Dean running at full-tilt toward me.

My brother landed on his knees and grabbed me in a strong hug,

"Sam, you're okay. You're okay, you're here…" Dean muttered.

I felt extremely tired. All I wanted was to sleep.

Dean released me and stared into my face. He had dark circles under his eyes that suggested he had not slept in a day or two.

Dean helped me stand and once more he looked at me.

"You're okay right?" he asked.

"Just tired," I said and followed Dean. I realized now that we were in the meadow behind Bobby's junk yard.

Once we stepped inside Dean was his old, confident self again.

Bobby came out of the kitchen and hugged me as well.

"We thought we'd lost you there. But thanks to Abdiel you're back," Bobby said, the opposite of his usual gruff sarcasm that each sentence he spoke contained.

"Who?" I asked and was answered by a slow British voice.

"Glad to see it worked, eh Castiel?" I looked into the living room and saw a tall, lanky man wearing a navy blue greatcoat. He wore charcoal grey dress pants and had black and white spats on his feet. A tweed paperboy hat rested jauntily on his curly, dirty blond hair. His lean face was unshaven and he had piercing brown eyes. Like a hawk, I thought. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth. He lounged on Bobby's couch as if he had always been there.

Cas stood to one side, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Abdiel stood and shook my hand. He was only a couple of inches shorter than me.

"You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Abdiel said and took a drag of his cigarette.

I didn't answer the question.

"Uh, thanks…" I said, a little awkward.

Abdiel made a little bow, "I live to serve…and I have a soft spot for humans."

"How'd you get me out?" I asked.

Abdiel winked, "a magician never reveals his secrets."

I shrugged and turned to Dean.

"You look like a corpse Dean, you should get some sleep," I said and my brother scoffed.

"I'm fine. I could live off coffee," Dean joked, then yawned loudly.

"Sam's right Dean, you need to sleep, you are exhausted," Cas said. It was not a question.

For a moment Dean looked uneasy.

"Don't worry Dean, I'll get Sam something to eat while you rest," Bobby said and Dean nodded, making his way upstairs.

Bobby and I moved into the kitchen, followed by Abdiel and Cas, in that order.

I sat at the kitchen table with the two angels as Bobby made fried eggs, bacon and coffee.

Abdiel chain smoked. Once he finished one cigarette he pulled another one out.

"Is that good for you?" I asked him and Abdiel shrugged.

I figured that while the angel was in his vessel the cigarettes wouldn't have an adverse affect, or any affect on the guy whose body he was borrowing.

I wanted to ask Cas why Abdiel was still here but couldn't figure out how to without sounding rude. I kind of liked the British angel. He was a better choice than some of the others Dean and I had met.

Bobby sat a plate with three eggs and a ton of bacon in front of me, grabbed a knife and fork from the cupboard and handed them to me.

I looked down at the food, and although it smelled good, my stomach clenched.

Bobby handed me a steaming mug of coffee and took the last available seat.

I ate as fast as I could, forcing myself. I didn't even taste it.

I looked up to see Abdiel watching me with fascination. Creepy.

Cas was watching Abdiel watching me.

Bobby looked at me, then at the angels.

"I'm sorry, I just find it so intriguing how humans have to eat to remain alive," Abdiel said as though talking about a lab specimen.

"Abdiel, generally humans are uncomfortable about being observed," Cas explained.

Abdiel leaned back in his chair and fished a cigarette from his coat pocket.

After eating, Bobby made sure I ate it all (I hated being treated like a kid; didn't I get enough of that when I was a kid?), I had to ask:

"Why did you help me?" I took a sip of the strong coffee, barely cooled.

"Out of the goodness of my heart," Abdiel answered around the cigarette.

"Abdiel, Sam has a right to know," Castiel said quietly.

"Bullocks Cas! Oh fine, ol' Castiel over here was ordered by the higher-ups not to act in any way for or against you and so he couldn't save your arse when you needed it," Abdiel said.

"Oh," I had not been expecting that answer.

"Me n' Cas go back a long ways…and I was the only one he knew who wasn't tangled up in this Raphael business so he came to me for help. Knew each other, well, since Lucifer's rebellion, if my memory's correct," Abdiel proceeded.

Cas made a noise in his throat. He didn't want the other angel to continue.

"He's got to know sometime Cas! You can't keep it from him forever! It won't go away just 'cause you're ignoring it," Abdiel said to Cas.

Keep what from me?

Obviously there was some sort of non-verbal communication going on between the two angels because Cas's reaction didn't exactly fit with the context of the conversation.

"That's enough Abdiel," Cas warned, "say no more."

Abdiel scoffed, "I'm not scared of you!"

Cas though, the voice of reason, said, "he will know when it is appropriate. I promise to tell him then."

"Fine, mate. But don't come crying to me when he gets bloody pissed at you," Abdiel shrugged, "for keepin' secrets from him."

Bobby looked from Abdiel to Cas, his mouth a grim line.

I just gaped like an idiot.

Cas stood and went into the living room, Abdiel stayed where he was.

I finished my coffee then stood. A wave of nausea hit me and I ran to the bathroom, just making it in time as I threw up what I had just eaten.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and my stomach clenched painfully.

I groaned miserably, flushed the toilet and stood. Bobby leaned against the doorframe, looking worried.

I waved Bobby's concern away, "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"That didn't look like 'fine' to me Sam," Bobby answered.

I ignored Bobby.

"When are we going to Angel Fire?" I asked instead.

"Dean wants to go and get some things from Lisa's but you'll probably head out tomorrow or the next day," the old hunter said. He wasn't going to say anything, let Dean deal with me.

I just wanted sleep. I moved over to the couch and curled up. I was unconscious in seconds.

When I woke up I saw Abdiel's face inches from my own. I jumped and the angel moved out of the way with inhuman reflexes.

"What were you doing?" I demanded. The guy was watching me sleep now? What was wrong with him?

"Watching you sleep of course. You are very interesting to watch. You talk in your sleep, did you know that? And your facial expressions are so entertaining," Abdiel said as he lit another cigarette.

"What do you want?" I asked. I felt as though I hadn't slept at all.

"Well, let's put it this way. Since Castiel is the one who saved Dean from Hell and I so recently did the same for you I am here to watch over you, be your guardian angel in a sense." Abdiel smiled and looked at me.

"Wot? You humans are such fragile creatures you need someone to protect you. Look, Castiel and your brother have a bond and so do you and I, and besides it gets really boring trying to avoid your family after a while. Thought I could do some good somewhere," Abdiel said.

Oh. Well…

I didn't like being called 'fragile' but decided it was best not to argue with an angel on that point.

"What were you and Cas talking about back there? You know, all that secret keeping stuff," I figured that maybe Abdiel would give me some answers.

"You're a clever one. Sorry mate, I can't tell you. Promised Castiel I wouldn't say a word until he was ready for you to know," Abdiel answered, swiped his hat off, and ran a hand through his hair, then replaced the hat. That seemed unfair, Cas was keeping secrets about me from me.

"Have you been here long?" I asked, not knowing another way to ask if he had had his vessel for a while.

"I haven't had this particular vessel for long but I have been on Earth for quite some time," the angel said and perched on the arm of the couch, looking very bird-like.

I only noticed now that we were alone in the house.

"Where's everybody?" I asked. The smoke from the cigarettes was becoming thick, making my eyes water, bothering my already upset stomach.

"Bobby's puttering around his yard and Cas and Dean are going to Indiana" Abdiel said, then looked serious.

"You've got to fight this thing that's coming Sam, fight it with more strength than you've ever fought with in your life," Abdiel said.

What was he talking about? I was getting annoyed at the two angels who insisted on speaking cryptically and not giving any straightforward answers.

I just nodded and Abdiel smiled and lit another cigarette. I went into the kitchen to get some more coffee and offered some to the angel. Abdiel refused. I wasn't surprised.

I looked out the kitchen window and I drank the cold beverage. It was bitter and sour but I finished one mug then what was left in the pot.

"Wot's that pensive look for?" Abdiel asked as he sat on the table.

"I was thinking," I answered. My stomach growled, hungry but I ignored it.

"I was there when God first made humans. He was so proud of his little man of clay. I thought He'd get bored with Adam but that didn't happen. He made a second, a woman named Eve. God wanted all of us to see how unique they were, the humans who God had made in our image but gave Free Will. That is what God was most proud of, I think, Free Will to choose for themselves. God gave the man our best attributes, and our worst as you can see if you pick up any newspaper or turn on the television. I thought the humans were very interesting creatures; they did things their own way. Michael, as obsequious as ever agreed with God that the humans were novel, even though I could see he didn't like them, not really. Uriel took an immediately dislike to them, but would not say anything against them to God Himself. Gabriel, the most passive, neither liked nor disliked the humans; I think he was waiting to see how they would turn out. Lucifer, God's favourite, hated humans as you've thus gathered. He was the only one who told God He should get rid of the humans before it was too late. Lucifer refused to acknowledge the humans and told others that God would love Adam and Eve more than them, that we would be forgotten, cast off. Even though Michael didn't like the humans he did not like how Lucifer believed God had been wrong.

Me, I liked Adam and Eve but Lucifer had made some good points. I'll not deny that I was swayed by my brother's words…but in the midst of battle I had a change of heart. Lucifer had just used the issue of the humans as a cover for his real reason for rebellion: he thought he could do better than God, he was really jealous of our Father. I myself can't abide by liars and so I switched sides, if only for the sake of the humans, since Michael's reasons were not all pure either…" Abdiel stopped and took a drag on his cigarette.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. It was a lot to process.

"So you know where I'm coming from Sam. I don't want to keep anything of import from you," Abdiel said, looking shocked that I was even asking.

"Except what Cas told you to keep from me," I answered.

Abdiel gave a shrewd smile and nodded.

I couldn't help but like the angel. Did I say that before? Yes? Well, the more I learned about Abdiel the more I liked him.

I listened patiently as Abdiel told me about human history from an angel's perspective. To tell the truth, I enjoyed being able to listen to someone else's story. It kept my mind off other things…

Bobby came back inside and made some of that pre-packaged chicken noodle soup. He obviously decided that my stomach couldn't handle anything stronger than that.

Bobby ate the salty soup too, I think just so I didn't feel like I was being babied.

Abdiel watched us as he sat smoking what seemed like an endless supply of cigarettes.

After eating I felt tired again. What was wrong with me? All I did was sleep and eat.

Once more I lie on the couch and fell asleep…

A nightmare. I knew I was having a nightmare but it was so real.

Lucifer's presence was close; I could feel the bone-chilling cold and waited for the pain to come. The freezing air stung my lungs as agony enveloped me once more.

"Sam," Lucifer drawled.

I couldn't answer.

"Castiel is a liar…" Lucifer said.

What?

"He knows…." The Devil said.

Knows what?

Lucifer did not answer. I could sense him smile in the darkness.

What does Cas know?

Tell me!

I was answered by the sound of laughter…

"Sam? Sam, wake up!" Abdiel's voice brought me back to consciousness.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Abdiel was standing over me, shaking my shoulder.

"I'm awake," I muttered and the angel retreated.

He looked worried. With trembling fingers he shook a cigarette from the package and put it in his mouth.

My stomach clenched and I curled into a ball.

There was a blast of warm air and Abdiel was gone. My stomach churned and cramped.

I'm going to be sick…

"Sam? You okay boy?" I heard Bobby shout as he ran into the house, Abdiel following at his heels.

Bobby tried to pull me into a sitting position but I remained slouched over. My stomach hurt so bad…

"Sam, you have to sit up," Bobby said and I made an unintelligible sound.

I leaned forward and threw up. All over the carpet, the hardwood, Bobby's shoes.

"Watch Sam, I'm calling Dean," Bobby walked gingerly into the kitchen.

Abdiel looked very uncomfortable. His nose wrinkled at the smell of the vomit.

He placed a hand on my chest so I didn't fall forward.

"Dean? Get your ass over here quick, something's wrong with Sam…"

"I don't care how you get here! Have Cas zap you over for all I care but get here. Now!"

Bobby returned from the kitchen and pushed me back so I more or less was sitting against the couch. The old hunter put a hand to my forehead and frowned.

"Fever?" Abdiel asked, puffing furiously on his cigarette.

"No, he doesn't feel hot at all," Bobby left the room and came back with one of those old- fashioned glass thermometers.

Bobby shook the thermometer and stuck it in my mouth. After a few seconds Bobby removed the thermometer, his eyes wide.

"What's going on? He doesn't feel like it but this says he's burning up," Bobby asked Abdiel, who provided no answer.

"Sam!" Dean appeared just in the hall with Cas and came running at me.

I slid back down so I lay on my side on the couch. I was so thirsty, I needed water…

"Sammy?" Dean came forward, side-stepped the vomit and placed his face close to mine.

I closed my eyes. The light was too bright.

"Sam! Sammy?" Dean shook my shoulder and I opened my eyes a crack.

"Lucifer…." I croaked.

"What!" Dean asked. I could smell his breath: bacon and eggs and coffee.

"Lucifer….knows…." I managed before my stomach clenched in agony again.

Dean stood and looked at Cas.

"What's going on? Sam is saying something about Lucifer, tell me what it is!" Dean demanded.

"I'm calling an ambulance. Any objections?" Bobby didn't wait for anyone to speak up but went to one of his phones and dialed 911.

Abdiel leaned down and put his face so close to mine our foreheads almost touched. He said something in Enochian and I instantly lost consciousness.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"You have to calm down Mr. Winchester or you'll have to leave."

"Just tell me if he's going to be alright, please."

"I'm sorry but we don't know. Please go back to the waiting room."

"Come on Dean, you are no help to Sam like this."

"Why can't you just fix him?"

"…."

I felt like I was floating. All around me was warm whiteness. There was no pain. My stomach no longer hurt. I could stay like this forever, I thought.

"Hello Sam," I recognized the voice.

Lucifer.

"It's been too long," I could hear the smirk in his voice.

Fuck you.

"That's not very polite, you know," he admonished.

Why are you here?

"We need to have a little chat," Lucifer said, almost pleasantly.

Leave me alone…

"But we have so much to catch up on," Lucifer said, sounding disappointed that I didn't want to 'chat'.

GO TO HELL!

"Now Sam, I don't want to hurt you but I will if you don't listen. What harm can just listening do?" Lucifer said with mock sadness.

What did you do to me?

"I didn't do anything to you Sam. You did this to yourself, with the choices you made," Lucifer answered matter-of-factly.

Bullshit! You did something to me!

I heard Lucifer sigh and suddenly the pain returned. It felt as though there were jagged, hot pieces of glass in my stomach.

Stop! Please stop!

"I warned you Sam," Lucifer said, like a parent who has had to punish a child who just would not listen.

I'll listen. Just don't hurt me.

I sensed Lucifer smile. I felt sick.

"You thought you could escape me that easily, couldn't you?" Lucifer asked, waiting for an answer.

I didn't answer.

"Didn't you?" Lucifer demanded, punctuating the point by causing my stomach to clench in agony.

YES!

"Well you can't Sammy," Lucifer said, calm now.

"I still have plans for you. Big plans," Lucifer informed me.

I didn't want to hear anymore. I wanted to be alone. Why couldn't he leave me alone?

"You're still my puppet Sam and it will take a lot more than bringing you back to life to cut your strings," Lucifer said, smiling.

No. No. Please. God. No…

"Oh come on Sam, begging is beneath you," Lucifer chastised.

I whimpered miserably.

"You are going to do what I say when I say it. Is that understood?" Lucifer asked.

No, please. I… I…can't…

"I am going to be patient with you right now Sam, but my patience has limits," Lucifer said by way of warning.

…

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that?" Lucifer mocked.

I'd rather rot in Hell than do anything for you!

"Come on Sam, I don't have all day for your games," Lucifer sighed in mock exasperation.

Yes.

"See, was that so difficult?" Lucifer smiled again.

"I don't want you to go crying to Dean so you'll just have to wait until I tell you my plans. You'll know when I want you… do you think you can handle that?" Lucifer asked.

…

"Look, let's make this easy on the both of us: if you breathe a word to Dean about our little conversation I will kill Dean and make what I did to you seem like child's play. Understood?"

Yes.

Lucifer left. I was alone again. This time I did not relish the isolation.

"Can you hear me?" an unfamiliar voice asked. A doctor.

"Nhuh" I said.

"Open your eyes if you can hear me," the doctor said.

Slowly I opened my eyes an inch. Everything was blurry.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" the doctor asked.

"Huh?" I croaked.

My eyesight became clearer and I saw that the doctor was a middle-aged Chinese woman.

"Three," I answered the doctor.

"Good. Do you know your name?" the doctor asked.

"Sam Winchester," I answered.

The doctor nodded.

"How do you feel? Dizzy? Is your stomach hurting?"

"No, I feel okay. Can I go?" I swung my feet out of bed.

"Whoa! Hold on there, Sam. We want to do a couple of tests to make sure it's nothing infectious," the doctor said and I pulled my legs back under the covers.

"Can I see my brother?"

The doctor smiled, "they've all been waiting for you for hours."

The doctor left and I heard Dean running down the hall.

"Sammy! How do you feel?" Dean came up next to the bed.

"Fine," I said, "false alarm."

I thought about my conversation with Lucifer. I wasn't sure if it had been real or imagined, caused by the PTSD but I did not dare chance it.

Bobby came over and looked me in the face "you scared the shit out of us boy."

Cas and Abdiel stood in the doorway, both looking worried. Abdiel was fiddling with a toothpick he had stuck in his mouth. He kept glancing over at Cas, trying to catch his eye.

"What happened Sammy?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. My stomach hasn't been right since I came back and I guess I couldn't handle all the coffee I had drunk," I said. Bobby and Dean looked pacified, for now.

The two angels looked very awkward. Cas had his hands in his pockets and he was looking straight ahead and Abdiel was chewing furiously on the toothpick.

After hours of tests the doctors finally let me go. I sat squished in the middle of the back seat between Cas and Abdiel. Bobby drove and Dean was in shotgun.

It took half an hour to get back to Bobby's but Dean had fallen asleep in the front seat, snoring lightly.

We all piled into the house. Grateful to be in familiar surroundings. I couldn't stop thinking about Lucifer. How could our 'conversation' be real? Lucifer was in Hell, locked in his Cage. I began to doubt if I had actually spoken to Lucifer, I had been ill and was only semi-conscious at the time. No, I thought, it didn't happen, it can't be real. It was just a symptom of the PTSD. Still, my brother should know what was going on, in case it happened again. Dean should know about my strange dream, even if it wasn't real.

I resolved to tell Dean about it in the morning, no matter how crazy it sounded…

I woke with a start. It was late at night. Moonlight shone pale through the window. I was lying on my side on the couch. Dean sat sleeping on one of Bobby's large chairs, his chin on his chest. What had woken me? I was about to sit up when I heard voices coming from the kitchen: Cas and Abdiel were in the midst of a whispered argument:

"Wot are you waiting for Castiel? Hell to freeze over?" Abdiel whispered

"No. I just cannot tell Sam yet," Castiel answered.

"You consider Sam Winchester a friend and yet you refuse to tell him information of the utmost importance. Are you scared? Is that it? You know what Castiel? You're a bloody coward," Abdiel said.

"It is not Raphael I am afraid of Abdiel. I can handle him if he finds out about this. If that is what you are thinking. I just cannot bear to tell Sam about Lucifer and then turn around and tell him I do not know how to fix it," Cas whispered sadly.

My heart beat furiously in my chest. Lucifer? What if the conversation with him had been real?

Oh my God…

"You can't hold out on them much longer mate. Sam is slipping away and you know it. Are you willing to wait until he is completely lost and then tell Dean?" Abdiel asked.

"What Sam Winchester did is unprecedented. I need more time to figure how we can sever Lucifer's hold on him. All we need is more time, Abdiel, time that we do not have," Cas said.

"At least let Sam and Dean know about this Castiel. Sam needs to fight it. Ignorance is not bliss, mate."

Cas made a small noise but said nothing.

"You know Lucifer will not wait to make his presence known to Sam. He will want to put whatever plans he has in motion. I am afraid Lucifer may have already contacted Sam," Abdiel said.

"I just need a few more days, that's all I need. If I go back to Heaven and try to figure this out will you protect Sam and Dean?" Castiel asked.

"Aye mate, Scout's honour," Abdiel said and walked into the living room.

I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. The beating of my heart sounded so loud in the quiet of the house.

Abdiel walked to the couch and perched on the arm, by my feet. He did not speak. Castiel did not come out of the kitchen, he had disappeared.

Eventually I fell asleep again…

I woke up when bright morning light crossed over my face. I sat up and the midnight argument of the two angels came flooding back to me. Lucifer still held me prisoner…

Bobby was in the kitchen making breakfast. Dean was already sitting at the table drinking coffee.

I walked into the kitchen and sat down.

"I made some phone calls and I just need to go down to Mitchell after breakfast and I'll have everything ready so we can get you that medicine," Bobby said as he stood by an old toaster, waiting for the bread to brown.

"Great," I said. I could really use something to relieve my growing anxiety.

"Then we can go to Angel Fire," Dean added.

Abdiel sauntered into the kitchen, looking decidedly gloomy.

"What's up with you?" Dean asked the angel.

"Nothing, nothing," Abdiel waved Dean's question away.

"Where's Cas?" Dean tried.

"Went back Upstairs. Had some business to attend to," Abdiel answered this time and sat at the table.

Bobby put a saucer with two pieces of toast in front of Dean and one in front of me.

There was a carton of orange juice on the table; Dean pushed it toward me.

I gave my brother an odd look.

"The last thing I need is for you to throw up in my car. You are having toast and juice," Dean said as he sipped his coffee.

"Dean, I feel fine this morning," I said. In truth I felt okay, stressed as hell but who could blame me?

Dean shook his head and began munching his toast.

I looked to Abdiel, hoping he would say something in my defense.

"Don't look at me, mate. You're the one who couldn't keep some chicken soup down," Abdiel answered, hands raised in a surrendering gesture.

I knew when I had lost the fight. I ate my toast and drank the juice to make Dean happy. Afterward, surprisingly, my stomach felt normal.

Dean, Abdiel and I waited restlessly for Bobby to come back from Mitchell. Dean sat on the couch flipping through a book on Japanese oni monsters. The text was written in Japanese characters so I was pretty sure Dean was only looking at the pictures.

Abdiel walked around the house, exploring every room with an almost childlike curiosity.

After the angel discovered Bobby's panic room he came back into the living room and said, "I could show Bobby how to angel-proof that room."

"Uh huh," I said as I looked out the window. I was watching a sparrow flit among the cars.

The sound of a car engine startled us and we were relieved when Bobby pulled up.

He walked in and handed me a fake driver's license and a prescription written in his best doctor's scrawl.

"Corporal Simon Preston," I read the name on the card.

"Just back from his fourth tour in Iraq. If the pharmacist gets snoopy and phones Dr. Edgar Post he'll get me. You should drive down to Rapid City to fill the prescription, too many people know my face and voice around here," Bobby said.

"Only a Corporal?" Dean stood beside me, looking at the license.

"There are too few Generals and Majors in the army Dean that they might get suspicious," Bobby rolled his eyes.

In minutes Dean, Abdiel and I were sitting in the Impala. Ready to go to Rapid City and Angel Fire after that. Rapid City was practically on the other side of the state but Bobby had insisted we go there.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I love driving for hours on end," Dean said sarcastically.

Bobby cuffed Dean on the side of the head, "just call me when you stop."

The drive was long and dull. There was nothing to see but fields, small towns and more fields, sometimes interspersed with barns or grazing cattle. Abdiel sat quiet in the back, thinking, no doubt about Cas and his errand.

Dean concentrated on his driving, but somewhere between Chamberlain and Philip he put one of his cassettes into the player.

'Master of Puppets' by Metallica came blasting from the speakers.

Dean sang along with the music, "…Master of Puppets I'm pulling your strings/ twisting your mind and smashing your dreams-"

"Turn that off," I said. I didn't like how the words reminded me that Lucifer still had me under his control.

"No way, this is a good song!" Dean said over the music.

"Turn it off Dean!" I demanded. I didn't wait for Dean to answer but reached over and ejected the tape and tossed it in the back seat.

"Hey! What's your problem?" Dean glared at me.

I glared back.

"Fine. The radio it is then," Dean turned on the radio and something by Quiet Riot came on.

I could feel Abdiel's eyes boring into the back of my head.

When we finally reached Rapid City all I wanted to do was get the medicine and leave. Dean drove around, trying to find a pharmacy he liked the look of.

"Just pick one," I sighed in frustration.

"It needs to be the right one," Dean said, glancing to the left and right.

Was he trying to annoy me?

"Dean, we don't have all day mate. Pick the next pharmacy you see," Abdiel spoke up from the back seat. He had not talked until now.

"Okay, okay," Dean muttered and parallel parked in front of a place called Wandoski's Pharmacy.

The three of us stepped out of the car and Dean held the door of the pharmacy open.

"After you Corporal," Dean said. I rolled my eyes and entered.

I walked past the rows of over-the-counter vitamins, allergy medicines, Advil, etc. and stood in line behind an old man to get the prescription Bobby had written up.

Dean and Abdiel walked through the aisles but kept an eye on me. It was all I could do to stop myself from sighing in exasperation.

I fished the carefully folded prescription from my pocket and looked at the list Bobby had scrawled down. A trio of barely pronounceable drugs were written in bold black pen. I hoped that they worked…

"Can I help you sir?" I hadn't noticed that the old man in front of me had shuffled away and I the only person in line.

"Uh, yeah. I need these," I said, feeling dumb. I had never had to have a prescription filled before. If Dean or I were ever sick we just got a ton of cough syrup and that Neocitron stuff and Schweppes ginger-ale.

The pharmacist was a short, skinny man with grey hair and large horn-rimmed glasses. His nametag read 'Jacob'. He held the paper up close to his face, reading the list.

"Corporal? First tour?" Jacob asked as he squinted at the prescription.

"Fourth," I said. I hoped the guy didn't want to start a whole conversation.

"I had a nephew who went over as soon as he turned eighteen. Came back three weeks later in a box; a roadside bomb blew up next to his convoy," Jacob said as he rummaged in the back for the medicine.

"I'm sorry," I said. I was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

"So am I," Jacob went back and forth between the counter and the cupboards filled with pills.

He sat bottles of amitriptyline, clonidine, and lithium pills on the counter. Thanks to health insurance fraud I didn't have to pay for them.

"Take two of each every day, only two. It's easy to overdose on that stuff," Jacob said and I nodded.

Feeling slightly awkward, I turned and walked out of the pharmacy, Dean followed just behind me.

"Where's Abdiel?" I asked when we stepped outside.

"He said he was getting more cigarettes," Dean unlocked the car doors and I slipped into the passenger's seat.

Dean slid into his seat and waited impatiently for the angel to return. With the shopping bag on my lap I pulled out the bottle of amitriptyline under a brand name Elavil. Dean watched as I opened the bottle, shook two small, blue round pills into my hand and popped them into my mouth and swallowed them dry. Next I opened the bottle of clonidine (Catapres) and took two of the white pills. Finally I took two red lithium pills.

Dean said nothing. He started the engine and turned on the radio: 'Stay Clean' by Motorhead came on.

Abdiel appeared in the back seat, causing Dean and I to jump.

"Ready to go?" the angel asked.

"Yes," Dean said, an annoyed look on his face.

We still had to drive through Nebraska and Colorado to get to New Mexico. It would take hours to get there.

We managed to get to Julesburg, Colorado on the border of Nebraska that night at around 12:30. We checked into a motel, ignoring the odd looks the manager was giving us because three guys requested two single beds.

The room was old but clean. It had faded green wallpaper, a once-was-white carpet, a small table in front of the window with two chairs, a long dresser with a TV on top and a small bathroom with an exterior sink.

Dean and I just sat our luggage (mostly full of clothes and a few weapons, etc.) in one corner and looked around the room. Abdiel took a seat on one of the chairs. He pulled out a pack of Marlborough's and put one in his mouth.

"Mind if I smoke?" the angel asked with one eyebrow raised.

"No," Dean said and pulled off his boots.

Abdiel lit the cigarette with a match and looked very contented.

I took my shoes off and went right to one of the beds. I felt exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep. Dean phoned Bobby on his cell to tell the old hunter where we were.

"We'll get up early and start out for Albuquerque in the morning Bobby," Dean said.

He paused and looked at me.

"He's okay. We're both just tired that's all," Dean said, talking about me.

"Of course! What do you think I've been doing since he came back?" Dean said indignantly.

"Okay, we'll call when we get to New Mexico," Dean said and shut his phone off.

My brother went to the other bed and set the alarm for 6 am.

I was almost asleep by the time Dean turned out the light. Neither of us had bothered to change our clothes. Abdiel's presence in the room, instead of being creepy, was actually somehow comforting…

I awoke in the middle of the night. I propped myself up on my elbows. My hair was plastered to my forehead with cold sweat. I looked to my left and saw Dean sleeping soundly on his side, his arms underneath the pillow.

Abdiel had not moved from his position. I could see the red glow of his cigarette in the darkness.

I pushed my hair back and sighed. The medications would take time to work, I told myself, be patient.

"You okay mate?" Abdiel asked quietly.

"No. Yeah, I don't know," I said dumbly.

"Nightmare," Abdiel said, it wasn't a question.

"Yeah," I sighed and shuddered.

Abdiel didn't speak. He stubbed out his cigarette and lit another.

"Am I going crazy? Will you at least answer me that?" I whispered.

"No Sam. You're not going mad," Abdiel said from around his cigarette.

I wasn't sure if that was good news or not.

I lay back down and watched the green alarm clock numbers glowing in the dark until I fell asleep again.

The next morning while Dean was out getting breakfast I picked out some clean clothes and showered. I stood in the near-scalding water, relishing the warmth. Once I was changed I sat on the bed, my laptop propped on my legs.

Abdiel came over and stood looking over my shoulder.

"You humans and your ability to invent such technologies never cease to astound me," the angel said.

I gave a non-committal grunt and pulled up an Albuquerque newspaper to see if I could find anything about the massacre of Angel Fire. I was disappointed, apparently the governor wanted to keep the 'terrorist attack' under wraps and so I found very little about what hadactually happened.

I shut my laptop as Dean came back inside, holding a tray with two paper coffee cups and a large box of food.

This morning breakfast to Dean meant donuts.

I looked quizzically at my brother as he opened the box and picked out a Boston Cream.

"What? Don't you like donuts?" Dean asked innocently.

"For breakfast?" I asked. I was surprised he had even gotten the coffee and donuts since he was so nervous about my stomach.

Dean shrugged, "it was the only place open this early."

I decided not to argue with Dean while he was in such an accommodating mood. I wasn't sure how long it would last.

We sat and drank our black coffee and wolfed down the donuts. I enjoyed the sugar and caffeine rush. Abdiel sat and smoked, looking skeptical.

"Why would you eat those?" the angel looked at a honey cruller doubtfully.

"Because they're delicious, why else?" Dean said around a mouthful of double chocolate.

Abdiel sniffed and took a drag off his cigarette.

Before we packed up I washed down the six pills with the last of my coffee.

As we got into the car, Dean asked "are those working?"

"Yeah," I lied. Dean looked like he believed me.

We arrived in Albuquerque after nearly two more days of driving. I took the pills faithfully but I was still having nightmares. I told Dean they were working and thankfully my stomach didn't act up to give me away- I was sure my brother thought that the medication would help that as well.

We checked into a motel and Abdiel waited there while Dean and I went to a nearby diner to eat.

The diner was large and loud. The lights bright, the surfaces gleamed. Dean and I slid into a booth. A feeling of unease crept over me, I don't know why. The restaurant was full of tourists in t-shirts and shorts- not the most threatening people in the world. Dean and I looked out of place in our jeans and long sleeves.

A petite Mexican waitress came by and gave us water and menus.

My leg began to jerk nervously and I gulped down my water. The diner was very warm but I felt chill and goose bumps rose on my arms. Dean looked at me, worried.

"You okay?" he asked, peering over the top of his menu.

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

Dean put down the menu.

"I'm fine," I managed.

I felt claustrophobic. I didn't like all these people so near. Sweat beaded on my forehead and slid down my back.

I finished my water and began to breathe quickly. I was having a panic attack.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

"I need to leave," I gasped and stood abruptly.

Dean moved into the aisle.

"C'mon," he said and grabbed my arm. I forced myself not to pull away as he practically dragged me from the restaurant.

We walked until we were in front of our motel. Dean turned to me, his expression a mixture of fear and worry and anger.

"What just happened back there?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know…I just couldn't stand to be in there…" Now I felt stupid and embarrassed for panicking.

"Are those pills working?" Dean asked, his voice harsh.

"No," I said, looking at the pavement between my feet.

"Sam! I asked you before and you said 'yes'! What's wrong with you?" Dean said, his voice rising.

I cringed.

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

"Sam, sorry isn't going to fix this. You should have told me the pills didn't work," Dean's voice lost its anger. Now he sounded sad.

"I didn't want you to worry. You've had enough to worry about recently-" I began but Dean interrupted.

"I'm worried about you Sam. I don't want to lose you again," Dean said. Now I felt really foolish.

"Come on, we'll order Chinese or something," Dean said and I followed him into the motel and down the hall to our room.

When we opened the door we found Abdiel lounging on one of the beds watching Casa Erotica.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Dean asked as we stepped inside.

"You humans sure have odd mating rituals. Do you always record them like this?" the angel asked.

I couldn't help but snort laughter.

"No. We don't. Turn that off, it'll rot your brain," Dean said and Abdiel turned off the TV with the remote.

"That was quick," Abdiel sat up and took off his hat and twirled it on one finger.

"Actually, we didn't get a chance to eat because Sam had some sort of panic attack," Dean said and sat on the bed to take his boots off.

Abdiel turned his bird-of-prey gaze on me, "what happened Sam?"

"I felt really uncomfortable with all those people around. The lights were bright and it was too loud…" I felt like an idiot but Abdiel didn't regain his usual cocky personality.

"What else?" Abdiel pushed.

"I…was cold," I muttered.

"Cold? It was hot in there-" Dean exclaimed but Abdiel raised a hand and silenced him.

"This is very serious Dean," the angel admonished.

Abdiel got off of the bed and took hold of my arm, feeling my pulse (or so I assumed). Abdiel's face changed with worry.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

My heart began to pound. I swallowed hard. Terror crept up my spine.

"I need to see if I can locate Castiel," Abdiel said and before either Dean or I could speak, he disappeared with a warm gust of wind.

Dean looked at me and I could only shrug, feigning not knowing what was going on.

Well, in truth I only had a small idea of what was happening but I couldn't let Dean know.

I moved into the room and sat down on the bed so recently vacated by Abdiel. Dean grabbed a menu for a Chinese restaurant that was close by and phoned them.

We sat in silence and waited for the delivery guy to come with the food. The only sound was our breathing and the ticking of the wall clock.

Twenty minutes later the guy came and Dean and I sat at the table and wolfed down Mu Shu pork, spring rolls, egg fried rice, and Kung Pao chicken.

After we sat on the separate beds and watched TV. I didn't pay attention to the shows at all. I needed to do something. I was terribly restless. I couldn't take it anymore, I needed to talk. I needed to tell Dean what had happened to me in Hell.

"Turn off the TV Dean; I need to talk to you."

Dean turned the TV off and then looked at me, not speaking.

With no more hesitation I spoke. I told Dean what happened in Hell. I told Dean what Lucifer did to me, not only the physical torture but the psychological as well. I was made to feel utterly hopeless and helpless. Lucifer turned all his strength on breaking me mind, body and soul.

Once I began to talk I couldn't stop, the words came forth as though of their own accord. I would sit for a few minutes, then get up and pace around the room like a caged animal. I revealed to Dean eighteen months of torture at the hands of a creature intent on my destruction. Of course I didn't, couldn't tell him everything but enough.

Dean did not speak. He sat on the bed, mouth opened a little. Staring at me as if he had never seen me before.

By the time I finished it was dark outside. I felt drained. Dean just sat staring at me with tears in his eyes, threatening to overflow.

"Oh God Sammy. I didn't know, I didn't know," Dean stood and hesitating, reached out and gripped me in a hug. Dean's shoulders were quivering, he was crying.

I took a couple of gulps of air. I didn't want to start crying too.

Dean let me go and looked into my eyes.

"Hello," Abdiel said as he appeared at my elbow.

Dean and I jumped.

The angel looked apologetic, "I was unable to find Castiel."

Abdiel looked from Dean to me and back again.

"Dean knows…what happened to me….in Hell," I said.

Abdiel nodded and lit a cigarette.

The angel locked eyes with me. Don't worry, I thought, I didn't tell him about whatever was going on between Lucifer and I.

"Can I talk to you privately for a minute, Sam?" Abdiel asked.

"Sure," I said and the angel and I left the room.

We walked down the hall and out of the hotel, across the parking lot and down the street a ways. Abdiel lit yet another cigarette as we walked but didn't speak.

The angel stopped and leaned against the side of a brick building that was closed for the night.

Without hesitation, Abdiel said, "wot do you know?"

I shrugged, "not much."

"Wot?" Abdiel pressed.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

"There's some sort of connection between Lucifer and me," I whispered as though someone might overhear.

Abdiel nodded and took a drag of his cigarette.

"How are you feeling?" the angel asked, seriously.

"Like I'm going crazy," I said, truthfully.

"This is no laughing matter Sam," Abdiel said and threw the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his shoe.

"Do you see me laughing?" I asked sarcastically.

Abdiel sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat.

"Has Lucifer made his presence known to you?" Abdiel asked, looking me in the face.

"Yes," I breathed, as though speaking the answer would summon the Devil himself.

"How many times?" Abdiel asked, his voice full of concern.

"Twice, that I remember." It was getting more and more difficult to separate what was a memory from the present.

Abdiel took his hat off and began wringing it in his hands, nervously.

"This is no good, Sam. This is no good at all," Abdiel said, he glanced around nervously as though someone might be listening in to our conversation.

"Bloody Hell, I've never felt so useless!" the angel exclaimed and replaced his hat back on his head, the material somewhat wrinkled but otherwise fine.

"We're trying Sam. Castiel is trying to find a way to fix this and I'll protect you as long as I can," Abdiel said and took a cigarette out.

I nodded. I hoped that Cas would find out how to break this bond Lucifer and I shared. I didn't care what the cost was; I just wanted to be left in peace.

Abdiel seemed to have nothing more to say and so we slowly made our way back to the hotel.

When we entered the room I saw that Dean was sound asleep on his bed. I silently slipped off my shoes and lay down on my bed. Abdiel perched on a chair and turned out the overhead light…

…Dreaming. I was dreaming again. I was in a large room, I knew that at least. I couldn't see the dimensions though, except for a spotlight focused on me the rest of the room held darkness. I stood in the harsh light nervously, waiting for something to happen. It began to snow, fat wet flakes floated down around me. I drew a breath of icy air, watched my breath turn to fog.

I turned around, trying to see through the darkness, the darkness I was afraid to enter. My heart pounded in my chest and adrenaline rushed through my veins. I steeled myself for what I knew would come.

"Why are you hiding? If you want to talk come and face me!" I shouted, sounding a lot braver than I felt. I was resisting the urge to run.

"Sam," Lucifer said, just on the edge of darkness.

A shiver ran up my spine. The fallen angel's voice was cold as ice.

"You've been telling secrets. That is not very nice. I told you not to speak," Lucifer said and my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn't tell if Lucifer was standing in front of me or beside me or behind me.

"I didn't tell Dean about this connection," I answered, my mouth dry.

"Ah, but you did tell him about our eighteen months together…" Lucifer hissed from somewhere all around me.

I took a breath. The cold air burned in my lungs. I needed to stay strong. I couldn't let Lucifer win. I knew it would be the end of everything if he won.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"You are going to see that girl who survived Belial in Angel Fire tomorrow. I want you to kill her," Lucifer said with a smile.

"No," I said flatly.

"You refuse?" Lucifer asked.

"I am not going to touch her," I said. Lucifer had just given me a name. Did he slip up or did he mean to?

"You will kill her," Lucifer said calmly.

I stood my ground. I was not going to kill an innocent girl.

"I see…" Lucifer said, as though pondering my answer.

Agony enveloped me. Daggers of ice pierced my skin. I fell onto my hands and knees. The floor beneath me was chilling. I made no sound. I refused to let Lucifer know the pain he caused. Lucifer did not stop. My limbs trembled and I fell onto my side.

"I can make the pain go away Sam if you just agree to this,'" Lucifer said in a 'this hurts me more than it hurts you' kind of way.

I closed my eyes and prayed that I would be strong enough to resist.

I could hear Lucifer laugh, "praying? Really Sam? Don't you realize by now that God has abandoned you?"

My eyes opened. Suddenly the pain stopped.

"You spoke to Abdiel?" Lucifer's voice sounded shocked.

"Yeah, I did" I said and got shakily onto my feet again. My limbs felt like Jell-O.

"What did he tell you?" Lucifer asked.

Was it just my imagination or did the Devil sound nervous.

Yep, it was just my imagination. Lucifer chuckled.

"I suppose he thinks he can protect you from me."

I said nothing.

"And Castiel thinks he can break our bond, doesn't he?"

Where was Lucifer getting this information?

Lucifer was laughing as if this was some sort of joke.

The Devil turned serious again.

"I will force you to kill the girl if I have to but I am trying to be lenient with you. Do not make me compel you to do this Sam," Lucifer said.

"I will not do this," I said and collapsed in agony once more.

"You are mine, Sam Winchester! You will obey me!" Lucifer shouted…

"Sam!" Abdiel's voice brought me back to consciousness.

It was dark still. Abdiel was crouched beside the bed; I could smell the cigarettes on his breath.

"He wants me to kill her; he wants me to kill the girl tomorrow!" I exclaimed, whispering loudly.

Abdiel reached out and gripped my shoulder, "well, you're not gonna do it."

I shook my head, "Lucifer said he could compel me to do it!"

"Bloody Hell," Abdiel whispered, "it's getting worse."

"Sam? What's going on?" Dean mumbled sleepily from the other bed.

"…Just a….nightmare…" I said and I heard Dean roll over.

"Dean and I will go interview the girl, mate," Abdiel said, "you stay here."

I nodded in the darkness and Abdiel returned to his chair.

I spent the rest of the night sleepless.

The next morning I said I was unwell and told Dean to take Abdiel with him instead of me. I wasn't lying- I really felt like shit.

Dean looked at me worriedly but said nothing. He watched as I took twice the amount of pills I was supposed to take in one day. When my brother offered breakfast I refused to eat.

After Dean and Abdiel left, dressed in suits with fake FBI badges in their pockets I sat on my bed, staring at the ground. A thought came to me: all of this was happening because someone or something had brought me back, so if I was dead then Lucifer wouldn't be able to use me…

I knew Dean was suffering to see me like this and it broke my heart, at least he had Lisa and Ben to go back to. I watched dust motes drift in a patch of light as these thoughts came to mind. Everything would be better if I was gone…

If Cas couldn't break the bond between me and Lucifer than I could…

I knew I would surely go to Hell again but for some reason the thought did not scare me.

Was I so far gone that the prospect of Hell held no horror for me. I stood and fished the lithium pills from my luggage and took two more.

"Sam, where are Abdiel and Dean?" Cas's voice startled me. Had he just appeared or had he been there for a while?

"They're interviewing the girl who survived," I turned and saw Cas standing in front of the window.

The angel's expression told me he had not been successful.


	5. Audience of One

My thoughts were on Sam as Abdiel and I drove to the hospital to interview the survivor from Angel Fire. Something was going on that my brother wasn't telling me. Or Castiel and Abdiel for that matter. I was pissed that no one was telling me what was going on.

Sam seemed to be getting worse instead of better and that terrified me. Maybe I could help…

When Sam had finally told me what happened to him in Hell I almost didn't believe him. Almost. What Sam went through at the hands of Lucifer made my Hell laughable. No wonder Sam was fucked up. Okay, sorry about that, Sam must have had some kind of strength to not end up as catatonic or something when he was brought back. I doubted I would have survived what he had.

"Hello," Castiel's voice said from the passenger seat and I slammed on the breaks with a startled shout.

"Jesus, Cas! Stop doing that!" I said and began driving normally again, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I apologize," Cas said and looked back at Abdiel, "I was unsuccessful in my business for the most part but I might have a small lead."

Cas started speaking Enochian to Abdiel so I wouldn't understand what they said. I was kind of surprised they were actually having a conversation in Enochian, I didn't think it worked like that. From Cas's tone I gathered that he was tentative about this 'lead'. Abdiel did a lot of head shaking and I thought I heard Sam's name mentioned more than once.

"Shouldn't someone be with Sam?" I asked, annoyed.

"I'll go, mate," Abdiel said and vanished from the car.

I sighed and pulled into the hospital parking lot.

The hospital was painted in soothing colours of mint green, white and light grey. A statue of the hospital's namesake, Saint Lucia, cast in marble stood against one wall. The nurses' station was yellow pine.

"Detectives Bruce Dickinson and Adrian Smith here to see the girl from Angel Fire," I held up my fake ID with the name of the lead vocalist form Iron Maiden on it

Cas had his in his pocket the whole time and mimicked my action awkwardly. I didn't think he'd ever get used to it. At least he wasn't holding the thing upside down again.

"Oh, their sending three of you? A Detective Chester Bennington just came in to see Caitlin about five or so minutes ago," a plump Filipino nurse said.

Chester Bennington? I thought, then, Sam!

How did he get here before us?

"What room?" I asked, leaning over the desk.

"Two thirty-three," the nurse said and I took off running toward the elevators.

Cas followed close behind me.

"Sam was in the hotel room Dean. I saw him myself, perhaps it is a coincidence," the angel said as we slid to a stop on the tiles and I pushed the elevator button with the heel of my hand.

"Something doesn't feel right1" I panted and counted as the numbers climbed lower and lower.

"Hurry up!" I said and the elevator door opened. I pressed the button and waited to get out at a run when we reached the second floor.

The doors opened and I ran down the hall, searching for room 233.

I stopped in the middle of the hall and Cas ran into me. The door to the room was open only a crack and it was quiet inside the room.

I pushed the door open and my mouth gaped open at seeing Sam leaning over the prostrate form of a girl. My brother was covering the girl's face with a pillow. His back was to me as I watched him.

I felt Cas move beside me and Sam slammed into the opposite wall.

"Cas! What are you doing?" I shouted as Sam crumpled to the floor.

"Shut up Dean!" Cas ordered and walked over to the girl and moved the pillow. She was dead. Her face was chalky white, her lips blue.

From the other side of the room Sam stirred and groaned. I made to go to my brother but Cas stopped me.

"Don't touch him," the angel ordered. He reached down and placed two fingers on the girl's forehead; she breathed in with a gasp and looked around confused.

"Ask her what you need to Dean. I'll take care of Sam," Castiel moved over to my brother and roughly grabbed his arm and they both disappeared.

I stood gaping like an idiot. What the fuck just happened?

"What happened?" the girl, Caitlin, asked. She was tiny and blond; she could only be fourteen or fifteen years old.

I snapped out of my daze.

I pulled the FBI badge from my pocket, "I'm Detective Dickinson. I need to ask you a few questions if that's alright."

Caitlin looked confused, "what about Detective Bennington?"

"He was called away," I said, "may I ask you a few questions?"

Caitlin chimed in "he was acting really weird!"

My curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to know what the fuck Sam had been doing.

"He said he was with the FBI and then he asked me my name and then he just kept saying how he was sorry, so sorry, over and over again…" Caitlin said in a bewildered voice.

Why would Sam do that? Sam would never kill an innocent person. Never. Something was seriously wrong.

Focus Dean! Cas said he would take care of Sam. Now focus on doing your job.

I asked the girl what she had seen that night. She turned to me and said she hadn't 'seen' anything. She was blind from birth. I felt like a dick.

Caitlin told me she had been reading in her room when it suddenly grew silent. She didn't even hear the crickets or cicadas. Then the sound of white noise started, getting louder and louder until she was forced to cover her ears. Abruptly the noise stopped and all was quiet. Caitlin went to her parents' room but when she tried to wake them they did not stir. She went outside in hopes of finding someone, a neighbor maybe, to tell her what was going on.

Caitlin walked down the deserted street. She could feel dead night insects crunch under her bare feet.

"That's when I heard the whistling?" Caitlin said. She was sitting up, staring straight ahead.

"Whistling?" I asked.

"Yeah, someone was whistling a song…I think it was some really old song, I didn't recognize it."

"Okay…" I said.

"Whoever was whistling was coming closer and I recognized the voice. It was the high school principal, Mr. Grey. Everyone loved Mr. Grey, he was such a nice guy," Caitlin said with melancholy.

"But it wasn't him, not really…I don't know if this makes sense but he was different. I could just tell."

"Did he say anything to you?" I asked, if this Mr. Grey was a fallen angel there had to be a reason he hadn't killed Caitlin.

"Yeah, he said 'hello my dear' and then he asked me what year it was. I told him it was 2010 and he said 'marvelous!' like it was the most amazing thing ever. I asked what happened and he said that he had arrived. He told me to give a message to someone…he said their names were Sam and Dean Winchester… he said 'tell them that it is far too late. Lucifer has spread his wings'. That's exactly what he said. I have no idea what he meant… he wasn't Mr. Grey," Caitlin looked close to tears.

"And then he just walked past me, whistling that song…" The poor girl broke down into sobs.

I reached out and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. I had no clue what to say.

"Thank you for your time. I'll be in touch," I walked out of the room and forced myself to not run toward the car.

What the fuck was happening to Sam? What kind of message was 'it is far too late. Lucifer has spread his wings'? We still had no idea who this fallen angel was…

I pushed open the motel room door and saw Sam sitting on a chair, his head down. Cas stood on my brother's left side, Abdiel to his right.

Abdiel had one hand on Sam's shoulder, either in comfort or to prevent him from getting up, I didn't know.

"What the fuck Sam?" I shouted and slammed the door shut. I was pissed; Sam was killing innocent people now? I wanted to pummel my brother.

Before I could take a step, Cas came forward and put a restraining hand on my arm.

"Calm down Dean," Castiel ordered.

"Calm down? You saw what he did!" I hissed, glaring at my brother. Sam still didn't look up.

"This is a delicate situation Dean and I need you to be thinking rationally before I explain," the angel looked gravely serious.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed and turned from Sam.

Cas watched me to make sure I was reasonably calm.

"Do not interrupt me Dean," the angel warned and began to speak.

"What Sam did, going to Hell while still alive and retaining his body, is an unprecedented event. No one knew the consequences of your brother's actions but it appears that due to the unique circumstances under which Sam went to Hell, living and possessed by Lucifer affected him in a negative manner. Since Sam was brought back to life a link between him and Lucifer has been present even though the Devil is not physically possessing Sam. Lucifer has enough strength to communicate with Sam and harm him as he has been doing for some time.

Lucifer has made it clear that Sam is still his slave. I have been trying to find a way to break this bond between your brother and the Devil but we must act upon it quickly. I believe to finally free Sam from Lucifer's influence, Sam must kill the Devil. This will not be an easy task, Sam must enter Hell once more and I fear he is far too damaged to undertake such an action. We must also be wary of Raphael in the event he finds out about your brother. I am trying to help Dean, I truly am but I am afraid we may already be too late," Cas said in a matter of seconds.

I stared at Cas, trying to comprehend what the angel was saying.

Sam was doing the things he was doing, acting like this, because he was still in Lucifer's clutches.

"What if it is too late?" I ask, fearing the answer. The fallen angel's message still fresh in my mind.

Cas just shook his head sorrowfully and my father's last words to me came unbidden. If I couldn't save Sam than I had to kill him.

"Can I see him?" I asked and Cas nodded.

I slowly walked over to Sam and crouched in front of him.

"Sam?" I said.

Sam looked up; he had a black eye that was rapidly swelling shut and a cut on his forehead. His face was an unhealthy grey colour. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry Dean, I couldn't stop him, I was too weak," Sam whispered miserably.

"It's going to be okay Sammy; we're going to fix this. You just have to hang in there," I told my brother.

I looked up at Abdiel, "we had to restrain him Dean."

I stood and heaved a sigh. What were we going to do? We couldn't watch Sam 24/7 but I didn't know what else we could do. I knew that Sam right now would not be able to last one second back in Hell.

"What did the girl tell you?" Castiel asked, still standing by the door.

"Nothing much that we don't already know. But the angel did give her a message. She was told to tell Sam and I that it was too late and that Lucifer has spread his wings," I said.

Cas looked surprised, and not the good kind of surprised either.

"What does that even mean? Lucifer's stuck in his Cage," I asked, taking the last part of the message literally.

"It's a metaphor, mate. Lucifer's army, the fallen angels, have been released into the world," Abdiel spoke up.

The British angel let go of Sam's shoulder and lit a cigarette.

Sam slouched further down in his misery. I walked over and rifled through his luggage and grabbed the bottle of lithium pills. I opened the lid and shook two out onto my hand. I held my open palm out to Sam and he took the pills and swallowed them. When Sam's fingers had brushed my hand they felt ice cold and clammy, like a corpse's.

"What does this have to do with Raphael?" I asked Cas.

"I have already told you that the fallen angels will surely assist in Raphael's ascension. We must protect your brother from Raphael's followers," Castiel said and came over and stood next to me.

Right now I needed to think about Sam and what he needed immediately. I took my brother's arm and guided him to the bed. He protested feebly but gave up and allowed me to pull the sheets up to his neck.

Sam needed to sleep so I motioned for Cas to follow me. Abdiel perched on Sam's vacated chair and watched over my brother as he slept.

Cas didn't speak as we walked out of the motel and down the street to the diner where Sam had freaked out.

We slid into a booth across from each other. A waitress brought menus and water.

"Why are we here Dean?" Cas asked, glancing blandly at the tourists in their shorts and t-shirts.

"Sam needs to rest and I want to talk to you," I said and ordered a bacon-double cheese burger and chocolate milkshake when the waitress came back.

Cas waited expectantly.

"How long have you known about this connection?" I asked

"Not long after I first saw him at Bobby's," the angel said.

I nodded. So Cas had known for a while what was going on.

"How is Sam supposed to kill Lucifer?" I took a bite of burger as I spoke.

"Sam must use Lucifer's own Seraph Blade," Cas said and looked uneasy.

"What?" I asked and took a sip of milkshake.

"Lucifer's Blade was lost during the war and only Sam or the Devil himself can find it," Castiel said, "the Blade could be anywhere on earth."

"This day just keeps getting better and better," I sighed.

"I don't see how this is a good thing Dean," Cas said, looking at me like I was crazy.

"I was being sarcastic," I answered, "nevermind."

I didn't speak for several minutes; I just ate my food while Cas watched tourists walking past outside.

"How is Sam supposed to kill Lucifer if he's in his Cage, in Hell?" I asked after taking a long drink of milkshake.

"We can use a spell to enter Hell unhindered; I think it may work in primarily the same manner for a corporeal body," Castiel said, looking thoughtful.

I blinked, "you think? So you don't know for sure if this spell of yours will work?"

The angel pinned me with a glare, "Dean, I am grasping at straws here. I know little more than you about this matter but at least I am attempting to rectify the problem!"

"I know you're trying Cas, I just don't want to lose Sam again," I said, slightly ashamed of the way I freaked out.

"How are we going to find the Blade?" Like Cas said it could be anywhere on earth and I knew we wouldn't have time to go driving all over the continent, or flying international for that matter.

"I can travel within seconds but I must take your brother with me," Cas said but I held up a hand to silence him.

"Sam is too sick to be getting zapped all over the world to look for Lucifer's Blade," I said and the angel looked frustrated.

"Why are you being so belligerent Dean?" Cas asked.

"My first priority is Sam's wellbeing, whether that means physical or mental. I am wondering if Sam is your priority since recently I don't know where your loyalties lay," I accused.

Cas looked astonished that I would even think a thing, "I care about Sam but I am also focused on the fact that very shortly Heaven may erupt in civil war."

I finished my food and waited for the waitress to return.

"We must not stay in one place too long Dean," Cas said, "if Raphael is interested in Sam than we must not remain stationary. Raphael's agents may be anywhere, they may be anyone."

That was comforting. I gazed intently at the waitress when she came back with the bill.

"Pervert," I heard her mutter when she walked away again.

I was scared to death for Sam. I'll admit it; I hated to see him suffer, after he'd been through so much already, sacrificed so much…

Wait a second! Death. That was it!

I grabbed some money out of my wallet to pay for the meal. Cas walked beside me as we left the diner and walked back toward the motel.

"I may have an idea so bear with me," I said as we walked.

"Maybe Sam doesn't have to go back to Hell and kill Lucifer. What if I asked Death to repay me a favour? I mean, technically, I allowed Sam to jump into Hell and that stopped Lucifer from using the Horseman for his own purposes. I'm sure Death would like some revenge," I mused out loud.

"You do know that you are talking about Death, as in one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who are harbingers of the End?" Castiel asked. I could see his expression from the corner of my eye. His brows were bunched together; his lips were a thin line.

"Yes, I figure he seems less crazy than the other three and he even told me he would eventually kill God so I think killing Lucifer would be a piece of cake for him," I said. I couldn't believe I was really thinking about asking a favour of Death.

Cas said nothing, just got a really thoughtful look and remained that way until we reached the motel.

"In any event, Dean, we need to leave Albuquerque as soon as possible," Cas said as we walked down the hall.

I paused just before opening the door and looked at Cas, "how do we know Sam isn't going to disappear again?"

"We don't. All we can do is watch him. In any case, I think that only occurred as a result of Lucifer forcing your brother to kill the girl… unless he wants Sam to do something like that again. I think we do not need to worry about Sam coming under Lucifer's control any time soon," Cas said, sounding unconvinced, "it seems that Lucifer does not… care if Sam remains with us in any case. If he did, your brother would surely be long gone by now. Lucifer is not intimidated by Abdiel and I and by allowing Sam to stay with us shows just how confident his is."

I sighed. How could this be happening?

"I want to take Sam back to Bobby's. I think that's the safest place for him right now," I said and opened the door.

When we entered the room Abdiel looked up. He had been watching Sam sleep with a creepy intensity.

"He's not moved, mate."

I walked over to Sam and gently touched his shoulder. His eyes opened right away, they were glassy with exhaustion.

"We're going back to Bobby's," I said and helped Sam sit up.

"Okay," Sam mumbled.

I moved about the room packing my things and then packing Sam's. When the luggage was ready I helped Sam stand and without assistance he followed me to the car. Sam got into the passenger side, Abdiel and Cas in the back while I went to pay the manager.

"Thank you Mr. McGrath, I hope you enjoyed your stay," the bubbly blonde chirped.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered and returned to the car and started out for the long drive back to South Dakota.

As we drove Sam seemed to be getting better. He became more responsive and ate more than he had in the past few days. I didn't get my hopes up. I knew this had to be temporary.

Whenever we stopped we only stayed for one day or less, Cas kept insisting we get to South Dakota with all speed.

We learned from Sam that the angel who had arrived in Angel Fire was named Belial. Cas and Abdiel, to say the least did not look pleased at the news.

"He comes with wickedness on his heels, mate," was Abdiel's comment when I asked why they were so grim looking (besides the fact that a fallen angel was free and walking around in a meat suit).

I immediately felt better when we passed within the gates of Bobby's junk yard.

It was around 3:30 in the afternoon; it had taken us four days to drive back.

Bobby smiled as he opened the front door to let us in.

Before anything else Sam and I told the old hunter all that we had found out: about Angel Fire and Sam and Lucifer.

"Christ on a cracker," Bobby said in clear disbelief.

Sam looked guilty, I don't know why; he was not to blame for what was happening.

"At least we sort of have a plan underway on how to fix this," I said and shrugged.

"How're you feeling, boy?" Bobby asked Sam.

"Okay, I guess."

Bobby nodded and went in the fridge and got us some beer.

"We could angel-proof your place for you Bobby, if you wanted," Abdiel spoke up from where he sat on the couch smoking.

"Knock yourselves out," Bobby said and waved the two angels away.

"Got some new neighbours while you were away. A young couple with a bunch of kids," Bobby looked like he was enjoying talking about something other than ghosts, demons and other supernatural baddies.

Sam and I listened quietly. It was nice to listen to something normal for a change.

Just as I finished my beer Sam stood abruptly and looked around, like he was trying to find something.

"Sam? You okay?" I asked nervously.

Bobby leaned forward, ready to move if needed.

Sam's expression dissolved in confusion, as if he wasn't sure where he was.

"Sam!" I said louder. I set the empty beer aside and stood.

My brother turned to me and I saw no recognition in his face. He didn't know who I was.

"Sam, it's me, Dean," I said.

Sam didn't answer. He looked scared now.

"Dean, your brother," I said and reached out to him but he flinched away.

Bobby stood and held his hands out, palms facing forward.

"It's okay… just calm down…" Bobby said.

Sam looked like he wanted to make a run for the door. What the fuck just happened? One minute he was fine and the next he had no clue who I or Bobby were.

"Don't touch me!" Sam cried.

I took advantage of his distraction and tackled him. The both of us fell to the floor.

Sam struggled to get away from me.

"No! Let me go, let me go! Don't hurt me anymore! Please!" Sam fought as though his life was in danger. I managed to pin him and looked at Bobby.

"I think he's hallucinating Dean," Bobby answered.

"Snap out of it Sam!" I ordered. Sam just stared up at me like I was some kind of monster.

"Get Cas and Abdiel!" I shouted as Sam got free and made a run for the door.

I just missed grabbing the back of my brother's shirt as he ran outside

"Shit!" I ran after him, into Bobby's junk yard.

"Sam! Get back here!" I shouted as I ran through the maze of totaled cars.

"Dean!" I heard Bobby call and I found my way to where the old hunter was.

I saw Bobby and the two angels standing. Sam was sitting on the ground, his long legs splayed out in front of him.

I ran over to Sam and touched his shoulder.

"What happened?" Sam asked. He was shaking.

"You were hallucinating or something," I said. Weren't those pills supposed to stop this sort of thing?

"You okay now?" Bobby asked. Sam nodded and stood.

Abdiel and Cas looked worried.

"You could've run right into traffic, mate," Abdiel said seriously.

"I…I didn't know what was happening…" Sam confessed.

"I thought I was back in Hell again," Sam said and shivered even though it was a warm day.

"We must be vigilant in the event this happens again. Sam is a danger to himself and others if he hallucinates," Cas said and put his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

The five of us walked back to the house. I kept an eye on Sam in case he freaked out again.

We retired to the living room. No one knew quite what to say. Sam took some more of his pills, washing them down with beer.

The doorbell rang, making us jump. Sam glanced at the door fearfully.

Bobby answered and we got to meet his new neighbours.

They were Alice and Stuart Buxton.

Bobby introduced us as his fishing buddies.

"Sam and Dean Cameron and Jimmy Novack and Abel Ward," Bobby said.

"Pleased to meet you," Alice said. She was very plump and short, with dark red hair and blue eyes. She smiled in good humour the whole time.

Sam and I said 'hello'.

Cas nodded and Abdiel tipped his hat.

"We were wondering, Bob, if you wanted to come for dinner. We always cook enough food to feed an army and we don't like to see it go to waste," Stuart said. He was tall and nerdy, with brown hair parted in the middle and thick-framed glasses.

"You go ahead Bob, we'll hang out here," I said. Now was not a good time to be going to other people's homes, what with Sam and the two angels…

"Oh you don't have to stay here. Any friend of Bob's is a friend of ours," Alice said with a smile.

Shit, it looked like we wouldn't get out of this.

"We'd love to come. How's about we meet you over there?" I said, forcing a smile.

The Buxton's thought it was a good idea and left.

"Damn it!" I swore.

"Don't look at me, I didn't invite them," Bobby shrugged.

I looked at Sam. He still looked ill.

I rubbed a hand over my face.

"How are you feeling?" I asked my brother.

"Alright," Sam said. I hoped he wouldn't freak out or anything.

I looked at the two angels.

"You guys are going to have to pretend to be human," I said, "you have to eat and drink and use simple words and try to understand jokes and sarcasm. Do you think you can handle that for a little while?"

Abdiel nodded. I didn't doubt that in his observations of humans he had learned a thing or two. It was Cas I was worried about.

"Do you think you can be human for a couple of hours?" I asked Cas.

"I think I will be able to maintain the perception," Cas said.

"Don't use big words! In fact, speak as little as possible, okay?" I said.

Cas said nothing.

Half an hour later I was sitting on a picnic table between Sam and Cas. Bobby sat on Sam's other side and Abdiel beside Cas.

Alice and Stuart sat in the middle of their three bratty kids.

The Buxton's had made steak and salad. There were dinner rolls on the table along with a pitcher brimming with lemonade.

Alice wanted to ask us all questions:

What did we do for a living?

Restored old cars (Bobby)

Lawyer (Sam)

Mechanic (Me)

Tax accountant (Cas)

Musician (Abdiel)

And on and on and on….

"Teddy, stop playing with your food!" Alice scolded one of her son's as he stuck pieces of steak to his fork to make a little human shaped meat-thing.

Bobby tried to keep the Buxtons talking so their attention wouldn't be focused on us.

I looked over and saw that Sam had barely touched his food. All he was doing was moving it around his plate and cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces.

I glanced up and saw that the Buxton's other son had his elbows on the table and was chewing his salad with his mouth open. Gross.

All I wanted was to go back to Bobby's. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cas looked just as uncomfortable. He was eating almost mechanically, like he was a robot or something.

Abdiel looked like he was enjoying the meal. He complimented Stuart on his barbequing abilities.

The Buxton's third child was a little girl, Jane, who sat across from Sam, staring at him openly.

Jane vaguely reminded me of the kid in Poltergeist.

Sam looked up at the girl, "see something green?"

The girl shook her head and continued to stare.

We managed to duck out of dessert but barely. Bobby said we had some stuff to do before we headed out to fish tomorrow.

We were not even out of sight of the Buxton's house when Sam's face turned pale and he ran for Bobby's house.

"Sam!" I shouted, thinking he was freaking out and ran after him.

I found Sam hunched over, puking on Bobby's lawn.

"You okay?" I asked.

"No," Sam mumbled and threw up white, foamy bile.

I wrinkled my nose at the bitter/sour odor.

Bobby, Cas and Abdiel caught up to us and stood around kind of protectively as Sam was sick.

Sam dry heaved for five minutes and then straightened. He looked tired.

We went inside and Sam made for the bathroom and brushed his teeth.

I paced around the living room. Cas sat on the couch stiffly and Abdiel perched himself on Bobby's desk. The old hunter was in the kitchen, puttering around.

That night I didn't think I would sleep at all. I sat on a chair and watched Sam as he slept. My brother's sleep was not peaceful. He was agitated and muttered. I wanted to take an action, any action, to relieve Sam of his suffering.

I must have fallen asleep because at some point in the night I woke up and saw that Sam was no longer on the couch.

"Sam?" I whispered, "where are you?"

I looked around and my heart jumped into my throat when I saw the front door was ajar.

"Cas? Abdiel?" I called out but got no answer.

I stepped outside and a cold wind hit me. I shivered but walked forward, through the junk yard, trying to find my brother.

I walked to the field behind Bobby's house and saw three figures on the little swell of land. Two stood flanking a third figure who sat.

I ran up to the trio and was unsurprised to see the two angels and my brother.

"Sam, what are you doing out here?" I asked.

"I couldn't stay inside anymore. I felt like the walls were closing in on me," Sam whispered, his teeth chattering.

"Why didn't you bring him back inside?" I asked Cas.

"Sam refused and I didn't want to force him," Castiel answered.

The three of them were staring up at a large full moon.

"Come inside Sam," I said and held out a hand to help him up. The last thing we needed right now was for Sam to catch pneumonia or something.

"No Dean, it's cold out here."

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

I was afraid for Sam, afraid he was losing his sanity.

Anger rose inside me, directed at many people.

I was angry at Lucifer for tormenting my brother, at Raphael who may soon put Sam in danger, at Castiel and Abdiel for doing too little to fix this, at myself for allowing Sam to do what he had done. I was angry at God, who in a time when we were in need of His help, remained silent and I was especially pissed at whoever had predestined this path in life for Sam and I in the first place.

It seemed like every day I mutely asked 'hasn't Sam given enough? Has Sam not sacrificed enough to satisfy you? What more do you want from us? When will you be sated?'

I sighed and sat down on the frost covered grass beside my brother.

I looked up at the stars, picking out the constellations I knew and wondering at the ones I didn't.

"Did you know that by the time the light from most of those stars reach earth they have already died because we're so far away?" Sam mused; he must have told me this a million times when we were kids.

"Yeah Sam," I answered, trying not to shiver in the cold night air.

We were silent for a long while when Sam spoke again.

"I'm glad Dad isn't here to see me like this," my brother said and I looked at him.

"If Dad was here he'd be going after Lucifer himself," I answered if that is what Sam wanted. If Dad was here he wouldn't be sitting on his ass in the cold grass staring up at some indifferent stars light-years away, he would be doing his damndest to save Sammy. Nobody messed with John Winchester's boys and got away with it, at least not for long.

Sam shook his head, his breath fogged out in front of him, "if Dad was here he wouldn't have let any of this happen."

I said nothing. Sam was right. Dad would have found a different way to stop the Apocalypse other than having his youngest son sacrifice himself. Dad would have taken one look at Lucifer and shived that son of a bitch.

I let my thoughts drift until I found myself pondering those two most dangerous words in the English language: What If.

What if Dad hadn't died?

What if I had tried harder to find another way to stop Lucifer?

What if Mom hadn't been murdered? Where would we be now?

What if Azazel had never made that bargain with our mother?

What if Sam and I had grown up ignorant of monsters and demons and angels?

Would we still end up here?

Stop it Dean! I ordered myself. Thinking about things that I couldn't change was useless. I stood and wiped the seat of my pants. I wandered back to the house and grabbed an old afghan blanket off the arm of the couch and brought it outside.

I draped the afghan over Sam's shoulders. My brother looked at me for a moment and then turned his gaze back to the night sky.

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light," Sam whispered to no one in particular.

Abdiel nodded. He took a drag of his cigarette and breathed out the smoke.

I jumped when my phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans. Who would call this late at night?

I opened my phone and saw it was Lisa who was calling.

"Dean?" Lisa's voice sounded groggy with sleep.

"Lis?" I answered.

I walked a little ways away from Sam and the angels. I spoke quietly into the receiver.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing… I just wanted to hear your voice," Lisa answered.

"You do know that it's after midnight?"

"I didn't wake you did I?" Lisa asked.

"No. I was awake," Something didn't feel quite kosher. I decided not to take any chances.

"I was thinking about what I send to you earlier…and I'm sorry. You can come back any time you want, and Sam's welcome to stay as long as he needs to," Lisa said.

My hunter instincts were on red alert.

"I think we may be gone a while yet Lisa," I answered.

"Where are you?" Lisa asked.

"Topeka," I lied.

"Ben really misses you, you know. You've been like a father to him and he seems down without you," Lisa said.

"I have to go now Lisa. It was nice talking to you," I said and hung up the phone before she could reply.

I walked back to the trio.

"Wrong number," I said.

"Bit long for a wrong number there, mate," Abdiel answered.

I crouched down in front of my brother. I could see the stars reflected in his green eyes.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

Sam didn't respond.

"Sammy? Are you in there?" I said and suppressed a shudder at the new meaning of those words.

Sam blinked and looked at me.

"Dean," he said blankly.

"Yeah," I answered, "how are you feeling?"

Sam gave a one shoulder shrug.

I sat down beside my brother and didn't move again until golden rays of sunlight painted the field a dusty yellow and turned the frost to dew.

I stood, stretched and reached down to help Sam up. He grabbed my hand without hesitation and his fingers were very cold as I pulled him into a standing position.

Abdiel and Cas reminded me of statues come to life. Water beaded on their clothes and hair. They said nothing as they followed Sam and I back to Bobby's house. I paused to pick up the blanket and drape it over one arm. It was soaked through with moisture.

When we entered the house Bobby was in the kitchen brewing coffee and making eggs and bacon.

"Cold outside?" the old hunter asked at the four of us sat at the table.

"Nah," I said.

Bobby handed me a steaming mug of coffee.

"How are you feeling Sam?" Bobby asked.

"Fine," Sam muttered, staring out the kitchen window at a robin that had landed on the branch of a scraggly tree outside.

I guess Bobby took Sam's answer as a good sign and set a mug of coffee in front of him.

"Anything happen I should know about?" Bobby asked as he leaned against the counter, drinking his own coffee.

"Lisa called," I said. At least I think it was Lisa.

"Late?" Bobby asked.

"After midnight," I answered. I took a sip of the strong drink.

"What'd she want?"

"She was asking where I was. I told her we were in Topeka. She said that Ben missed me and then I hung up," I said. Bobby nodded.

Bobby turned and scooped scrambled eggs onto three plates. He then sat down and we ate our breakfast. Sam, I was surprised, actually ate. It was weird, for days he wouldn't want anything to do with food, and then out of the blue he'd eat as if nothing was wrong.

"Dean, when do you think it most prudent to search for the Seraph Blade?" Cas asked as I wolfed down the eggs.

"This afternoon. After Sam's eaten some more; he needs to get his strength up," I answered the angel through mouthfuls of food as though my brother was not sitting right beside me. Not that Sam seemed to notice anyway.

Cas nodded, seeming to be satisfied with that answer.

Abdiel watched Sam with his hawk-like gaze.

After breakfast Bobby, Sam and I tried to do some research to see if we could find any clue as to where Lucifer's Seraph Blade might be.

I was sitting at Bobby's desk, a pile of thick books in front of me. Bobby stood next to his bookshelves glancing at titles and picking volumes out at random. Sam sat on the couch, his laptop resting on his knees.

Cas was pacing across the living room, anxious to be off.

"Could you stop that?" All I could hear was a rhythmic creak creak creak of the floorboards under Cas's shoes.

"C'mon Castiel, let them be. I want to talk to you anyway," Abdiel said and pages fluttered as the angels vanished.

I gazed down at the book I had open before me and groaned, "there isn't anything about Lucifer's Seraph Blade!"

"Well, it won't be well documented Dean," Bobby answered, "the war happened before recorded human history."

"Then why are we on this wild goose chase?" I asked.

Bobby moved toward the desk.

"Do you think it's a good idea to have Sam go back into Hell? Again?" Bobby asked.

"We don't have much choice Bobby," I answered.

"History repeats itself," Bobby muttered.

"What?" I snapped.

"This is what happened before Sam took the plunge the first time, Dean. You were so focused on the problem that you didn't pause to consider all of the possible solutions," Bobby said.

"Are you accusing me of something?" I said, indignant.

"I'm just saying we should look at all our options before we act," Bobby said.

I felt insulted.

"The other plan I had was asking Death for a favour so which option do you prefer Bobby? A) Sam finds Lucifer's Blade and kills the Devil by traveling to Hell, or B) I hope Death is in a generous mood and agrees to kill Lucifer out of the goodness of his heart?" I snapped at the old hunter, my voice raised.

Sam looked up from his laptop, his expression nervous.

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy!" Bobby growled.

I stood. My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Don't you dare tell me how to take care of my own brother! You just keep your nose out of our business, old man!" I shouted. All the pent-up anger I felt was finally being released. At the wrong person.

"Dean?" Sam said cautiously from his seat.

I turned on him, "you just shut up! None of this would have happened if you hadn't trusted a demon when I told you over and over again not to! You never listen to me and look where it's gotten you? This is all your fault Sam. Everything that's happened IS YOUR FAULT!"

Sam sat stunned for a moment and then shoved his computer to one side and hurried out the door.

"That's right, run away like you always do! That's been such a big help in the past!" I called after Sam.

I knew I was going completely overboard, that I was out-of-line and should not have freaked out at Sam but I couldn't control my anger anymore. I was lashing out at whoever was unfortunate enough to get in my way.

"Dean! What's gotten into your head boy?" Bobby demanded.

"Oh don't act so high-and-mighty Bobby," I scoffed.

"Yer an idjit Dean Winchester," Bobby rumbled.

I grabbed a book from the desk and chucked it at Bobby's head. The heavy volume narrowly missed.

"That's mature," Bobby said.

"I'd be better off without you Bobby," I snapped and threw a glass paperweight next. This time it hit its target. Bobby's baseball cap flew off his head and a gash and bruise appeared on his forehead. The weight smashed on the floor.

Bobby was just about to make a lunge for me when Castiel appeared. He took in Bobby with blood dripping down his face, the shattered glass on the floor and my livid expression.

"What are you doing?" the angel asked calmly, looking at Bobby and I like we were some new, disgusting species of insect just discovered by some horrible accident.

Bobby snapped out of it first. He wiped his face than went into the kitchen to mop up the blood with paper towel. I stood rigid, my chest heaving with anger.

"Where is Sam?" Cas said.

"He ran away like the pussy he is," I grumbled.

"He what!" Cas snapped.

"He took off 'cause he couldn't handle hearing the truth," I said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Dean, have you lost your sanity?" Cas asked, becoming agitated.

Why should he worry? Sam was my business and no one else's. He'd come back eventually when he was hungry or cold, just like when we were kids.

Abdiel appeared at my side and punched me in the head. Enough to hurt but not do any damage.

"You sodding prat! Where is Sam?" Abdiel's accent became thicker with his heightened emotions.

"I don't know. He's probably in that field or walking down the road," I muttered, rubbing the side of my head.

In seconds Abdiel disappeared and re-appeared, looking grim.

"He's not there Dean," Abdiel looked very worried.

"Relax, he can't have gone far," I said.

I didn't even notice I was acting like a complete dick.

Bobby came out of the kitchen, a bunch of ice cubes wrapped in a dish towel against his forehead.

Cas looked from me to Bobby and back again. Something was not right.

"Abdiel, the house is completely covered in Enochian symbols, correct?" Cas asked.

"Aye," Abdiel said and then asked, "what are you thinking?"

"I believe we have been infiltrated."

"Who d'you reckon?" Abdiel asked and pulled out a cigarette.

Castiel thought for a moment.

Cas walked over to the old hunter, "you two were placed under a spell so that the enemy angels could get at Sam."

Cas raised a hand and touched Bobby's forehead. Bobby blinked and looked around the glass and book strewn living room like he was seeing it for the first time.

Next Cas walked toward me. I raised my hands defensively and backed away.

I ran into the wall and Cas touched my forehead. It felt like an electric shock went through by body and I suddenly had no idea why I had been fighting with Bobby in the first place.

"Sam's gone," I said and a sliver of fear slid down my spine.

"How'd Raphael's spies manage to get by us, Castiel?" Abdiel asked.

"It would appear that Lucifer's generals have found Raphael and are assisting him," Castiel said.

"Bloody Hell!" Abdiel cursed, "this shouldn't have happened, Cas, we barely let Sam out of our sight. They must have used a long-distance spell." He was supposed to protect Sam and he had failed.

"Long-distance spell?" I asked.

"They're harder to work but it allows an angel to target someone without even coming into contact with the intended human," Abdiel explained hurriedly.

"So what do we do now?" I asked. I didn't have a clue where we were supposed to start.

"We must find your brother," Cas said simply and vanished into thin air.

"How?" If Raphael was responsible for Sam's kidnapping then I doubted he'd make it easy for the two angels to find him.

"If Raphael uses a spell or anything of the sort against Sam we'll know," Abdiel said.

"Do you really thing he's that stupid?" I asked the angel.

"We can only hope," Abdiel answered with a humourless smile.

"This is my fault, I shouldn't have yelled at him," I said and ran a hand over my face.

"We'll find him, mate. The best thing for you and Bobby to do now is lay low and wait for us." Abdiel said and vanished.

"Like Hell I'm gonna sit here playing hooky all day," Bobby walked over to his bookshelf and pulled out a novel.

He handed the book to me.

"What is this?" I asked. It was completely unlike the other volumes in Bobby's collection.

"Paradise Lost. Now shut your pie-hole and get reading," Bobby said.

I looked down at the book.

"Why do I have to read this one? It's not even English!" I complained.

"Because I get this one," Bobby pulled an enormous text off the shelf. It was very wide and thick, leather-bound.

I looked over and saw a title written in gold script on the brown cover: Silas Lumen's Archetype of Ethereal Beings.

"Okay, I'll read Milton" I said and lounged on the couch and tried to concentrate but for the cold fear growing in the pit of my stomach.

"We'll find him boy," Bobby said from his desk. He had moved all the other books onto the floor to make room for the gigantic tome he was now going through.

I nodded and began to read:

Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world and all our woe…

Hours later I had barely made it through the book and I was more confused than before.

"This guy doesn't even make sense half the time Bobby," I said, frustrated.

"Just note where he mentions fallen angels, Dean," Bobby answered.

I grabbed a piece of paper and a nub of a pencil out of a drawer and began listing of the fallen angels:

"Beelzebub, Mammmon, Mulciber, Moloch, Adonis, Adramelec, Ariel, Arioc, Ashtaroth, Asmadai, Astoreth, Baalim, Chemos, Dagon, Nisroch, Ramiel, Rimmon, etc." I read each name aloud much to Bobby's annoyance.

"How is this going to help us find Sam?" I asked. I wanted to be actively looking for him.

"We don't even really know if he's been kidnapped by Raphael's cronies do we?" I asked.

"Abdiel and Castiel think Sam was caught by Raphael's spies and I don't really see any reason to doubt them," Bobby answered.

I got up and grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it, drinking half of it in one go.

I looked to the window above the kitchen sink, willing Sam to pass in front of it so I knew he was okay, that he wasn't being held prisoner who knew where by a maniacal angel with a God complex.

My shoulders slumped. I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings; I should have been looking after my brother instead of being a complete douchebag.

I silently promised Sam that I would find him and save him. That we'd stop Lucifer and Raphael and finally have paid our due.

I wandered back into the living room and grabbed the Milton book again, reading with renewed vigor: if this is what I had to do to save Sammy, I would gladly sit and read all of Bobby's books if it would help Cas and Abdiel find my brother.

The minutes passed into hours and the hours into days and it seemed that with every second the chance to save Sam slipped away. Periodically Castiel or Abdiel would appear, only to deliver no news. They were both being run ragged but they refused to give up their search for a nanosecond, especially Abdiel. I could see that he was beating himself up for allowing Sam to be kidnapped.

All I could think of was the last words I had said to Sam. I would never be able to live with myself if I lost Sam without telling him I was sorry.

Constantly Bobby was reassuring me that Sam was okay, that he'd be alright. But my hope grew fainter as the days slipped by.

Late at night, when Bobby's house was silent and outside not even the crickets chirruped, I spoke to God. I was at the end of the line. My nerves were frayed. I didn't know what else I could do.

"God, if you're out there listening I want you to do something. Please, I'm begging you here. Intervene, just this once. I don't even care about myself but do this for Sammy. He was always the one who believed in you. Even when the shit hit the fan Sam always had faith in you.

I can't really believe I'm doing this- no offence, but I have no idea where I go from here. I'm just so frightened for my brother. I just want him to come back in one piece, please?" I spoke quietly, from my position on the couch where I could see the stars through the bay window.

"Sam, I don't know where you are and know you can't hear me but I want you to know that we're going to save you. You just have to hang in there," I whispered and closed my eyes.


	6. Trapped Under Ice

What Dean had said hurt me. I already had enough guilt over what had happened and hearing my brother say he blamed me for everything was the final straw.

I walked away from Bobby's junk yard, down the road toward the Buxtons' house. I didn't know where I was going; I just wanted to be alone for a while. I scuffed my sneakers along the dirt and gravel road, lost in thought when I heard a voice call my name. I looked up and saw it was Stuart Buxton.

I lifted my hand in a half-hearted wave and continued walking. The sun warmed my back as I slowly made my solitary way past the Buxton house.

"Sam?" I turned to see Stuart coming up through his ample lawn toward me.

"Hi, uh…" I fumbled for words that weren't overtly rude.

"What's the matter?" Stuart asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Nothing," I lied. I was not going to tell this practical stranger about my family issues.

"Well, I was just out mowing the lawn and Alice was going to bring out some lemonade if you'd care to join me," Stuart said.

"No thanks," I said as politely as possible, "I have somewhere to be."

"Where's that?" Stuart asked. Did this guy ever give up?

"Uh, just to the corner store on Municipal Street," I pointed vaguely down the road.

Stuart followed my gesture. There was no corner store on Municipal Street, just an old abandoned barn and a rusted thresher.

"What harm could it do to just to sit for a while?" Stuart asked. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"What is your problem?" I demanded.

"I don't have a problem Sam, I'm just trying to be a friendly neighbor," Stuart looked hurt by my question.

I stepped to the side of the road as a large blue pickup truck rumbled by. Stuart stared at the vehicle until it was no longer visible on the horizon.

I sighed. I wasn't in the mood to entertain Bobby's weird neighbours.

"Maybe some other time, Stuart," I said apologetically.

"Alright then, I'll hold you to it," he answered good-naturedly and I watched as he walked amiably back down the low hill to his yard.

I heard the lawnmower start up and I continued walking in the direction I had been going.

I walked for maybe five minutes; I was out of sight of the Buxtons' house, when I began to wonder if I should go back to Bobby's house.

Dean couldn't have meant what he had said. Could he?

I couldn't believe, didn't want to consider that Dean believed all that had happened the past few years were my fault.

I heard footsteps and turned to see a young man, maybe eighteen, walking a couple of yards behind me. I noticed the young man wore a light grey suit, like he was on his way to a wedding or something.

I ignored him and kept walking, staring at the ground, lost in thought.

I kept walking, slowly, continued to scuff my feet along the ground. I was just unsure of what to do. I decided I would stay away for a few hours and hopefully Dean would have cooled down by then

I looked over my shoulder, just to see how far from Bobby's house I was when I saw the young man still walking behind me; the distance between us had shortened considerably though.

The young man's face was blank of emotion but it did have an expression of calculated intelligence.

We were walking past a farmer's corn field; the stalks were lush and green, taller than me, when two people stepped out from among the rows of green.

A man and a woman who, like the young man wearing the grey suit, looked completely out of place strolling down a country road in the middle of the day.

The woman was wearing a red dress that ended just below her knees with a halter-style neckline. She had cherry red stilettos on her feet. Her hair and eyes were pale. The man wore a dark grey suit, a black tie and dress shoes. His slate grey hair fluttered loosely in the breeze.

I picked up my pace. I was nervous. I wasn't quite sure why, maybe it was just because the people looked so out of place.

Over the sound of my own footsteps I could hear three pairs of feet following. I glanced behind and saw that the decorously dressed trio was walking only a few feet behind me. They stared straight ahead, they didn't speak, and they seemed intent only on their unknown goal.

I realized they were not just walking behind me, they were following me!

I tried to remain calm. I casually checked for my phone but of course I had left it at Bobby's.

Maybe I was just paranoid and they were just walking. I slowed until the trio passed me, they continued on their way and I relaxed. I watched as the trio turned at the fork in the road and out of sight, obscured by the corn field.

I rounded the corner and nearly walked into the young man. I immediately turned to find the older man barring my way.

"Shit," I breathed and ducked into the corn field.

I started running. I could hear the trio chasing me.

The broad flat leaves of the cornstalks slashed at me as I ran, or rather crashed through the field. I hadn't made it very far when I began panting, my heart pounding in my chest. I closed my eyes momentarily and tried to listen for my pursuers. I could hear their footfalls but that was it, they didn't get disoriented in the sea of green.

I could feel sweat run down my back. I began to gasp for air. I was feeling dizzy. I stumbled.

I just wanted to get back to Bobby's but I had no sense of direction. I could have been going even farther into the field for all I knew.

I had to keep going but my body screamed at me to stop. I could hear the trio gaining on me. I suddenly pitched forward as I tripped over something. I landed hard on my stomach, I bit my lip as I hit the ground and felt blood trickle down my chin. Pain seared my leg to the knee as I twisted my ankle.

Quickly I jumped up and instead of running; I limped as fast as I could. Every step sent jolts of agony up my leg.

I swiped blood from my chin with the sleeve of my shirt and stopped to try and orientate myself despite how dangerous it was.

"Sam Winchester," a grave voice behind me said quietly.

I turned to see the young man standing behind me. He didn't look at all like he'd been chasing me through some field.

"Who are you?" I asked as I backed up.

The young man smiled, "you shouldn't have run away. You could have saved yourself from becoming injured if you had just stayed put."

"What are you?" I asked although I had an idea of what exactly he and his two friends were.

I looked behind me and realized I was cornered. The woman and the older man had appeared while I had been distracted.

The young man darted a hand out and grabbed my forearm with inhuman strength. I punched him in the face with my free hand. I felt some of his teeth break as my knuckles hit his mouth. He didn't seem to care; he just tightened his grip on my arm and pulled it behind my back until I was forced to my knees from the pain.

The woman grabbed my free arm and the older man reached down with a smug expression. He placed two fingers on my forehead and I blacked out.

I blinked and looked around. I was lying on a concrete floor with a spotlight shining down on me; the rest of the room was hidden by darkness. Just like my nightmare. I sat up quickly so I wasn't in such a prone position. My injured arm felt sore and I was sure there would be a bruise and my ankle still throbbed.

"Sam Winchester," an unfamiliar male voice spoke from the shadows.

A tall, thin black man wearing a suit fit for a mortician stepped into view.

"It's a shame we have not met in person until now," the man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You have an unfair advantage; you know who I am but I have no idea who the hell you are," I said, trying to ignore my painful ankle.

The man sniffed and said, "I am Raphael."

Great, I thought, the angel who wants to re-start the Apocalypse. And I couldn't manage to stand and face him eye to eye.

I said nothing for a few moments. I had nothing to say to this douchebag.

Raphael sneered down at me as though I was a cockroach or some equally unpleasant insect.

"Are you going to tell me why you had me kidnapped by your goons or do we have to play 20 Questions?" I asked innocently.

"You are here because you are Lucifer's vessel," Raphael said.

So I was here so he could keep tabs on me.

"What makes you think I'll agree to Lucifer again if you let him out of his Cage?" I asked.

Raphael gave a wolfish grin that I did not like one bit.

"I can guarantee that when the time comes you will be begging to say 'yes'."

A sliver of fear formed inside my chest but I forced my expression to remain passive.

"So, how's that rescue mission going anyway?" I asked.

Raphael frowned, "you will not be so impertinent when Lucifer is risen once more". The angel disappeared. The spotlight was extinguished and I was surrounded by complete darkness.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my pounding heart. After an uncertain amount of time I relaxed somewhat; at least I wasn't going to have a panic attack or something.

I don't know how long I sat in the darkness. I had no way to calculate the passage of time in my prison. Eventually my ankle stopped hurting and I stood. I needed to move around and keep my mind from dwelling on the reason for my being here. Inch by inch I walked forward with my hands held out before me until I touched cold, unpainted cinderblock. I followed the wall of my prison until I found steel double-doors, closed fast (not that I expected anything otherwise). I thought I must have been in a warehouse or something like that.

Time passed and to keep occupied I walked around and around. My prison was not very big, maybe a little larger than the length and width of a professional football field. When I was tired I slept fitfully, plagued by nightmarish memories of Hell and Lucifer. In little time I grew thirsty and my mouth became dry. My stomach grumbled with hunger.

I awoke up from a nightmare to find someone shining a flashlight in my face. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the sudden light but the person holding the flashlight moved to one side. Once my vision adjusted I could see a petite young woman of Korean descent. She was wearing tight black jeans, black flats, a red halter top and black denim jacket. She had a slightly amused expression on her face.

"So, you're Lucifer's vessel. I was expecting…someone different."

She spoke with a faint accent.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said and stood so that I towered over her.

She smiled up at me like I was some lovable family pet.

She held something out to me in her free hand; it was a bottle of clear liquid.

I hesitated and she gave the bottle a little shake, "take it. It's just water."

I reached out and took the bottle.

"So Raphael has you doing his dirty work?" I opened the bottle and gulped down half its contents.

She gave a small laugh, "I guess you could call it that."

"So whose side are you on?" I asked. I re-capped the bottle and held it in one hand.

"Lucifer's. You can call me Astoreth," the fallen angel said and actually held out her hand.

"There's no harm in being civil, is there?" Astoreth asked and I shook her offered hand.

"How long have I been in here?" I wanted to know.

"Two and a half days," Astoreth answered.

I was shocked. Nearly three days I had been Raphael's prisoner. I needed to get out of here. I had an idea.

"What do you know about what happened eighteen months ago? What did Raphael tell you?" I asked as though out of pure curiosity.

"Raphael informed us of your deceitful nature. He told us of your underhanded deed that sent Lucifer back to Hell. You and your brother are liars and not to be trusted. Lucifer should have won but you bent the rules. You are Lucifer's vessel and you said 'yes' and there is no going back on such a binding contract as that," Astoreth spat, glaring at me.

"That's what Raphael told you?" I scoffed, "he must not trust you fallen angels very much."

I pretended as though I wasn't going to say any more. I was waiting to see if Astoreth would take the bait.

"And what is your version then, Sam Winchester?"

"Lucifer and I entered a bargain: no tricks, just me and him against each other. If I won I would take the plunge but if Lucifer won then he could finish what he began. Lucifer was strong, almost too strong for me but I was able to overpower him. I won fair and square," I left out the part about Dean and Castiel and Bobby, I knew that would not help my cause and Raphael had probably already told her about their involvement.

"A mere fluke that will not be repeated a second time. Your brother will not be here to save you again," Astoreth smiled wickedly.

"Was it a fluke though? Lucifer lost to me. A human," I pressed.

Astoreth paused and snarled, "you are trying to make me seem a fool! I am more cunning then any human, Sam Winchester. I know when I am being lied to!"

She stepped very close to me, her dark brown eyes full of anger.

"If I were you I would watch my words carefully," the fallen angel whispered and disappeared.

I hoped that I hadn't just made a terrible mistake. I had tried to plant the seed of doubt in Astoreth's mind and I seemed only to have pissed her off.

Like I need more enemies, I thought and sighed.

An unknowable amount of time passed as I sat in the silent dark. The only sound the beating of my heart and my own breathing. I began to grow nervous, imagining I heard faint footfalls or whispered voices in the darkness.

I knew it was just a matter of time before I had another panic attack or hallucination. I tried to remain calm and positive but depression set in and I couldn't help the morbid thought that came to mind:

Was Dean even searching for me? The last time I had seen him he had been as angry as he'd ever been.

Dean wasn't looking for me. He was relieved that I was gone.

How much time was there before Raphael broke Lucifer free? I was not strong enough to fight the Devil. I trembled at the thought of being possessed by Lucifer again.

I feared for the people who knew nothing of what was coming. I feared what I would do under Lucifer's control…

I was sitting against the cinderblock wall, my knees pulled up to my chest when the memory/hallucination started.

Chill air crept along the floor, frost following on its heels to cover the concrete until it was slick as an ice rink. I sat very still, telling myself it wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't-

I breathed in the freezing air until it burned in my lungs. Adrenaline pumped into my veins and I was ready to flee.

"Sam Winchester," Lucifer hissed in the darkness.

I gulped but said nothing.

My heart was pounding in my chest; my fear was surely clear on my face.

My mouth was as dry as cotton and my legs weak with fright.

"Look at what has become of you," Lucifer said. His voice was very close.

"You humans really are such fragile creatures, made of glass it seems," Lucifer said.

"Sometimes I almost feel sorry for you," Lucifer mused, "almost."

"You know, everything would have been fine if you hadn't fought me Sam. I am not the bogeyman you make me out to be," Lucifer said kindly.

I shook my head.

"No? I told you that I would not harm Dean, and I wouldn't have had to if he hadn't interfered. I would have spared Robert Singer and Castiel as well if they hadn't tried to stop me," Lucifer said.

I gasped. I could barely catch my breath in the freezing air.

"It didn't have to be this way Sam. I didn't ask for much but you couldn't even give me that little bit I did ask for," Lucifer's presence was before me, looking down upon me.

"Everything that happens to you is the result of your own choices," Lucifer whispered, "you do this to yourself."

I made a strangled noise.

"Poor Sam. No wonder Dean isn't trying to rescue you," Lucifer said in mock sadness.

"You're wrong," I managed.

"Am I? Dean, who believes you are a freak and a monster, who considers you a burden is searching for a way to liberate you? I know he is not, and I never lie," Lucifer said with a smile.

"I told Dean not to try and save me. I made him promise," I croaked.

"When he was in Hell you tried to save him."

"This…is different," I whispered.

Lucifer made a skeptical noise.

"Believe me Sam; Dean is not looking for you. He is happy you are finally gone," Lucifer insisted.

I thought back to all the times Dean and I had ever fought. How Dean had reacted when he found out I wanted to go to Stanford- like I was being the most selfish person ever by wanting a normal life.

"It's not true!" I protested.

"I care about you more than Dean does, in time you'll come to see that" Lucifer said and I was engulfed in agony, a thousand pieces of searing shrapnel cutting into me…

"I can't stand it anymore Bobby! I can't just sit around reading John fucking Milton and waiting for Cas and Abdiel to bring more bad news," I snapped from my spot on the couch.

Sam's laptop was propped on my knees and I was searching through newspaper articles for any activity that may be linked to angels.

"We can't do anything Dean. Cas and Abdiel are much faster than we are at searching and they are looking everywhere," Bobby said.

"But it's been almost three weeks, Bobby! Three weeks! What if Sam's dead? What if he's hurt?" I asked. Each day that dawned with no news of Sam brought me closer and closer to the feeling that we would never find him.

I had not had much sleep since Sam had been kidnapped. I was supposed to protect him and instead I threw him to the wolves.

"We'll find him, boy" Bobby assured me but I didn't feel so confident.

Every once in a while Astoreth would appear with more water and sometimes food. Usually a sandwich that most likely came from some deli.

"You're no use to us dead," Astoreth said flatly the first time she handed me the wax paper wrapped sandwich.

I wolfed down the sandwich as though it was the most delicious food on the planet.

The fallen angel did not seem so cocky this time.

"Raphael is becoming impatient, and so are we."

Astoreth answered when I asked what had Raphael so uptight.

"Raphael is eager to obtain the Horsemens' Rings," Astoreth said and I nearly chocked.

Raphael knew about the Rings! That was not good.

I wondered how long it would take before Raphael paid a visit to question me about the Rings. As it turned out I didn't have long to wait…

What seemed like maybe a day after Astoreth brought me the first sandwich I was woken by a swift kick in the ribs.

Raphael skipped the small talk and got right down to business. Two of his minions grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back once I was standing. I knew Raphael wasn't in the mood to ask politely.

"Where are the Rings?" Raphael snarled more than asked.

"I don't know," I said, truthfully. I really didn't know where they were. I didn't know what Dean did with them after I had gone to Hell and I figured the less people who knew their location (myself included) the better, so I didn't even ask.

"You are lying," Raphael said and grabbed my throat.

"I don't know," I gasped as the angel squeezed my neck.

Raphael glared at me, trying to tell by my expression if I was telling the truth.

The angel released my throat and after a number minutes of coughing I once again told him I had no idea where the Rings were.

"I do not have time for your games; you will tell me where they are."

I shook my head, "try Timbuktu."

Raphael punched me in the face. Hard. My nose broke. Tears of pain filled my eyes and blood gushed down my face.

"Where are they?" Raphael demanded.

I spat blood in his face.

"Let him go," Raphael ordered and the two minions released me.

Raphael kicked me in the stomach.

I doubled over. Gasping for breath; blood from my nose pattering on the concrete floor. Raphael kicked me again and I collapsed to my knees.

The angel reached down, grabbed my hair, pulled my head up so I was looking at him.

"You may be Lucifer's vessel and that means I cannot kill you but there are far worse things than death," Raphael hissed and shoved me away.

Raphael and his cronies disappeared.

I sat and nursed my wounds in silent misery.

I had no idea how much time had passed. I waited with fear for Raphael to return and question me again. I slowly walked around and around my prison, hoping that the angel would not return. I didn't know what it would take to convince the angel the truth. I had a feeling he would come back and question me again…

Raphael did return, alone this time.

I stood. The angel grabbed my throat. I chocked. I had been sitting against the wall of my prison and now Raphael was holding me against the cold cinderblock. My feet dangled inches above the ground.

"I do not have time for your lies. Tell me where the Rings are," Raphael hissed.

I could barely breathe much less talk. I gasped in vain for air.

"I know you know where they are Sam Winchester," the angel continued.

"No," I whispered.

The angel pulled me away from the wall and slammed me back into it. My head smashed against the cinderblock and I groaned with pain.

"Where are they?" Raphael asked again and once more dashed me against the wall.

I felt dizzy and bright lights flashed before my eyes from a lack of oxygen. Raphael released me and I dropped to the ground. I gasped and coughed for air but Raphael didn't let me rest. He kicked me in the abdomen over and over again. I curled into a ball and covered my head with my hands.

Raphael pulled me into a standing position and punched me in the face. My already-broken nose sent agony racing through my head. I collapsed in pain and the archangel disappeared.

Time passed, neither Astoreth nor Raphael came and I grew more thirsty and hungry by the minute. I grew weaker and felt certain that I was going to die, no matter what Raphael said.

"Are you alive?" Astoreth said and nudged me with her foot.

I blinked up at her in the glare of the flashlight.

The fallen angel grimaced at my appearance. When I attempted to stand I was overcome by nausea and slid back into a sitting position on the floor.

"You should not lie to Raphael. He has a very short temper," Astoreth said and crouched down before me.

"I…wasn't lying," I said. I took the offered water bottle with trembling hands.

Astoreth said nothing. She watched as I slowly drank the water.

"We think there may be another way to free Lucifer without the Rings," Astoreth said.

I closed my eyes.

"Please go away if you're going to tell me this," I didn't want to hear about how close Raphael was getting to freeing Lucifer.

"You should know this!" Astoreth said.

"Why, just so Raphael can watch my misery for jollies?" I said.

"So you can prepare for the time when you must play your role!" Astoreth said, sounding shocked.

"You don't know what it's like, do you? On the other end? What it feels like for the poor human who's body you're using/" I said. There really are no words to properly articulate what it feels like to be 'possessed' by an angel.

Astoreth shrugged off my words.

I was so deprived of human contact I was actually trying to having a conversation with the enemy.

Astoreth held out a paper wrapped bologna sandwich. I took it gratefully and ate slowly.

"Raphael should not be treating you like this. Lucifer will not be pleased with him when he sees you in such condition," Astoreth said, gazing down at me.

I had no idea what I looked like but it probably wasn't pleasant.

"I have stayed too long," Astoreth said and disappeared.

Raphael did not return to question me about the Rings; I decided that was not a good thing.

Sleep came less and less easily; my nightmares became waking memories until Lucifer plagued me constantly. All I wanted was to curl into a ball and disappear.

It took me a while before I realized that Astoreth and Raphael were standing over me.

"Sam Winchester!" Astoreth practically shouted.

"No!" I said when I saw Raphael.

The angels ignored me, arguing between themselves.

"Lucifer will not be pleased with this Raphael and you know it," Astoreth said, pointing at my huddled form.

Raphael just looked down at me without emotion.

"It is no concern of mine if the vessel is weak," Raphael said in a bored voice.

"Sam Winchester may not be able to contain Lucifer in this condition," Astoreth said.

"What do you propose we do than, Astoreth?" Raphael drawled.

"We need Sam Winchester strong enough to handle Lucifer. What made him strong before?" Astoreth asked.

I didn't like where this was headed.

"Demon blood," Raphael said simply and I sat up in shock. There was no way they could make me drink demon blood again.

Astoreth looked down at me.

Please, no. I begged silently.

The fallen angel turned her gaze back to Raphael and nodded, "it is settled then. Sam Winchester must be made to consume demon blood."

The two angels disappeared and I was left alone in the dark to ponder this new development.

"Dean, where are you?" I called into the silence.

Too soon Astoreth returned. She was alone.

"Where is your brother?" Astoreth asked. She crouched down so we were eye level.

I averted my gaze. I wasn't going to tell her anything.

"Sam Winchester, where is Dean?" Astoreth took my face in one hand and forced me to look at her.

"If you tell me where your brother is I will tell him you are here and he will rescue you," Astoreth hissed.

"How do I know you aren't lying? How do I know this isn't a trick Raphael thought up?" I demanded.

"I am not lying. I am trying to help you," Astoreth whispered.

I thought. What did I have to lose? Nothing I hadn't already lost before. What did Dean have to lose if this was some sort of a trap? A lot.

"Dean should be in Sioux Falls, South Dakota."

If he was still there.

"Why are you helping me?" I ventured.

"Raphael is unfit to rule Heaven. His arrogance is his downfall. Many of my siblings are not content to work under him; with Lucifer we were treated as equals but to Raphael we are servants," Astoreth said.

"But what about Lucifer?" I asked. Did she still plan on releasing the Devil?

"Lucifer was given his chance and failed," Astoreth said simply.

"I will find your brother and send him here," the fallen angel said and vanished.

I hoped I was not making a mistake that I would soon regret.

I just needed to get out of the house for a while. During the past weeks my days had been spent pacing restlessly around Bobby's living room or surfing the web in hopes of coming upon an article that had some angel activity involved. I got into the Impala early one dull, grey morning and drove around town. After two hours of aimless driving I headed back to Bobby's and parked the car in the field behind the house, where Abdiel had brought Sam back. I turned off the engine but kept the stereo blaring to Metallica.

Just as 'Fuel' ended I was startled by a sharp tap against the car window. I turned and saw a small Korean chick standing with her hands on her hips.

I turned down the music and rolled down the window.

"Are you Dean Winchester?" she asked with a slight accent.

"Yeah," I answered. What did she want?

"Sam is in Point Pleasant, West Virginia."

"Whoa, hold on a second!" I said and jumped out of the car.

The Korean girl gave me an impatient look.

"What?" she demanded.

"How do you know where Sam is?" I asked.

"I have seen your brother myself," the chick said.

"Wait, are you…?" I didn't finish the question.

She must be one of Raphael's henchmen, or henchwomen in this case.

I looked at her suspiciously. She seemed nervous and ill at ease.

"I want something in return for revealing your brother's whereabouts," she said.

"Okay," I couldn't believe that I was not freaking out and calling Cas.

"I want immunity. I want your word that Castiel will not come after me," she said.

"What about Abdiel?" I asked.

She smiled, "Abdiel and I go way back. I don't think he's likely to cause me harm."

"What?" I asked stupidly.

"You didn't know? During the war Abdiel was on Lucifer's side. He fought against Michael and Raphael," the angel grinned wickedly.

I just stood dumbstruck.

"I will only be able to distract Raphael and the others for a short time so you must hurry," she said, serious now.

I stood still for a moment and then took off running toward the house. Digging my phone from my pocket at the same time.

"Cas! Get back here now! I know where Sam is!" I shouted as I ran.

I shoved open the screen door and in a rush explained to Bobby where Sam was.

Before Bobby could open his mouth Castiel and Abdiel appeared. Both looked flustered.

I glared murderously at Abdiel.

After what the fallen angel had said I was now very suspicious of the British angel.

Abdiel sensed my mood and raised an eyebrow.

"Wot?" he asked.

"You are a liar!" I accused.

"You're working for Lucifer aren't you?" I asked.

Abdiel shook his head, "wot's got into you Dean?"

"He's probably been in on it the whole time haven't you? Leading Cas astray so we'd never find Sam in time! But I'm not fooled by you anymore." I said.

Bobby was staring at me like I was nuts. Cas looked worried and a look of understanding suddenly dawned on Abdiel's face.

"If you'd been told the whole story, mate, you'd know that I switched sides. I fought alongside Michael in the end, not Lucifer," Abdiel said.

"How do we know you're not some sort of double agent or something?" I asked.

"We do not have time for this Dean. Abdiel has been my friend for millennia, there is no reason to believe he associates with Lucifer," Cas said.

"Now tell us wot you know," Abdiel lit a cigarette, looking annoyed.

"An angel told me Sam's in Point Pleasant, West Virginia."

"And you believed this angel, did you?" Abdiel asked.

"Yes. This is the first lead we've had!" I said.

"It could be a trap, you know" Bobby said.

I really didn't care if it was a trap at this point; I just wanted to get Sam to safety.

Cas said he would go to Point Pleasant and scope it out. He disappeared and we waited.

"You know, I told Sam and he didn't have quite the same reaction as you," Abdiel said and breathed out a thick fog of smoke.

"Yeah well, Sam isn't always the best judge of character."

Abdiel looked insulted.

"Y'do know that whomever it was that told you probably lied," Abdiel said.

"So you didn't switch teams halfway through the game?" I asked in a scathing voice.

"I did, but the details were probably left out."

"I care about Sam, Dean. I don't want to see him come to harm. I don't know what you expect me to do to prove to you that I am on your side," Abdiel said and I shrugged.

"Dean? Yer an idjit if you wanna play the blame game now," Bobby snapped.

"Suck it up and you can have yer hissy fit after we know Sam's alright," the old hunter said and I suddenly felt ashamed of my thoughts against Abdiel.

The angel had only ever been helpful and here I was accusing him of treason.

Cas appeared in the living room, "there is an abandoned factory on the edge of the town that looks promising. I saw no one and I hope that is a good sign."

I jumped up from where I had been sitting on the couch, "let's go!"

"You just want to go in there with guns blazing and pray it ain't a trap?" Bobby asked.

"Yes Bobby that is exactly what I want to do."

I was being serious. I could not wait any longer.

"All right then," Abdiel took a final drag of his cigarette and took hold of Bobby's arm.

Cas reached out and grabbed my sleeve. I braced myself for the sense of vertigo that I knew was about to come. My heart pounded with the thought of seeing Sammy again.

I was unpleasantly surprised when Astoreth appeared with Raphael close on her heels. The archangel held Astoreth's arm in a death-grip. The fallen angel had a black eye and a split lip that dribbled blood down her chin.

I'm sorry, Astoreth mouthed. She looked truly wretched.

"It seems we have a rat in our midst," Raphael said and shook Astoreth's arm for emphasis.

"What are you going to do to her?" I asked.

Raphael smiled and revealed a Seraph Blade. Astoreth shrunk away from the weapon.

"Don't!" I shouted.

Raphael paused.

"Don't kill her. It was my fault. I tricked her, let her go."

Why was I defending a fallen angel, who, not so long ago wouldn't have batted an eyelash if I was faced with certain death at Raphael's hands?

Raphael smiled.

"You will still get yours Sam Winchester but I have to teach all of Lucifer's agents that I do not take traitors lightly," Raphael said and raised the Blade, ready to stab Astoreth in the chest.

"NO!" I shouted and ran at the angel. I hit Raphael and we were both knocked to the floor.

Raphael released his grip on Astoreth and the fallen angel disappeared. The archangel turned his malicious gaze on me and raised the Blade he still held in his hand.

I closed my eyes and waited for the pain…

Raphael laughed and I opened my eyes.

"Not yet Sam Winchester. I am waiting for an audience," Raphael smiled an evil grin and disappeared.

Time passed slowly. I heard noise outside and knew something big was happening. Raphael appeared by my side and held the tip of the Seraph Blade to my back.

Oh Dean, don't come in here, please don't come in…

The previously bolted doors flew open, letting in diffuse sunlight.

"Sam!" Dean called out.

"Dean-" I was about to warn him when Raphael gave me a sharp jab with the Blade.

"Sammy, it's okay. We're here," Dean said. He didn't see Raphael yet.

I began to tremble. I wondered if I could escape from Raphael fast enough to make it to Dean.

Raphael must have known my intentions because he lifted his free hand and gripped my shoulder painfully.

I could see Dean walking closer, closer…

"Dean!" I called out.

Dean looked up and saw me. And Raphael.

"Let him go you bastard!" Dean ordered the angel.

"You are too late Dean Winchester," Raphael smiled and stabbed me between the shoulders with the Seraph Blade.

It felt as though I was being electrocuted. White hot pain spread throughout my body. I heard Dean shout and saw his feet as he came running while I collapsed to the ground.

Gingerly Dean touched me. Shouldn't I be dead? Why wasn't I dead?

I could see Dean; it was like I was catatonic or paralyzed. I saw Bobby's face next, then Abdiel's and Cas's.

All I could hear was the beating of my own heart…

I watched their lips moving.

Abdiel pointed and shook his head.

Lucifer's Seraph Blade, I read Cas's lips.

What! Oh God! I had no idea what that meant.

We have to leave Dean, Now!

No, I'm not going to leave him!

He won't be your brother for much longer! We can't help Sam if we're dead!

Cas walked out of my field of vision. Then Bobby and Abdiel.

We're going to save you Sam, I promise. Dean said.

Don't leave me! I silently begged.

I watched helplessly as they left. Raphael appeared, looking smug.

What did you do you son of a bitch! I wanted to know but I couldn't speak.

It began to grow bone-chillingly cold. Oh no, please, not again.

I felt Lucifer's presence in the room. I could feel the malignant evil he gave off like black aura.

Suddenly I was not in control of my body. I was pushed to the back of my consciousness as Lucifer sat up. The Seraph Blade clattered sharply to the ground.

"Ah, I must thank you Raphael for your assistance." Lucifer said in my voice.

Raphael looked very pleased with himself.

Lucifer smiled and snapped his fingers. Raphael exploded, showering the floor with blood and bits of gore.

'I told you I would win, Sam,' Lucifer said and walked out of the room into the main part of the factory that was coated in years of dust and debris…


	7. Keep Us On The Road

I woke with a start. It was dark; I was still Raphael's prisoner. In a sense I was relieved that it had only been a dream. The thought of being possessed by Lucifer again filled me with fear. I took a deep breath. I had fallen asleep waiting for Astoreth to return from South Dakota. I recalled the details of the dream as though I had just watched them play out on a television screen. It had seemed so real, every emotion, every sensation as though I had just lived it. Why had that been so real? It was definitely not a memory, but could it be a premonition? I hoped I wasn't having those visions again…

A gust of warm wind announced Astoreth's presence.

The angel walked up to me with a superior smile, "your brother is on his way here as I speak. I must leave and create a diversion for Raphael and the others."

"Thank you," I said, earnestly.

"Just don't let me see your face again," Astoreth said with a gentler smile, "I have had enough of you to last eons."

I gave a small laugh.

"Take this," Astoreth handed me the flashlight. It was one of those heavy-duty metal ones the police use.

Astoreth vanished without another word and I was left to wait impatiently for the rescue party.

Cas and Abdiel zapped Bobby and I to Point Pleasant. We stood just on the edge of town. Without hesitation the two angels began walking briskly down the dirt road that led to a small wooded area.

Bobby and I jogged to catch up.

"Why didn't we land closer?" I asked.

"The element of surprise, mate" Abdiel said.

"Do you sense him yet?" Cas asked Abdiel.

The British angel nodded, "aye, very faintly."

"No wonder we missed him then," Cas said thoughtfully.

"You were here?" Bobby spoke up.

Cas nodded, "we surveyed all of North America first, then South America and Brazil, then Russia…"

"But you were here? In Point Pleasant?" I interrupted.

"Aye, we searched near every city, town, burgh, hamlet and village in the US. Just to be sure," Abdiel fumbled in his pockets for a cigarette, came up empty and sighed.

"How does that bond of yours work anyhow?" Bobby asked.

"Dunno, I've never rescued a bloke from Hell before Sam, but I can tell where he is at any given time no matter how far apart we are. Raphael must have disrupted the connection with a spell. You can't completely erase the bond but you can make it weaker, almost imperceptible if you wanted," Abdiel said as we now walked through the forest.

Twigs and pine needles crunched underfoot. I could hear crickets and songbirds but other than those sounds, and of course the noises we made, there were no others.

"What if they're ready for us?" Bobby asked.

"We'll cover while you get Sam," Abdiel said.

That sounded like the best half-assed plan I had heard in a long time, and believe me, I knew a lot about those.

We walked for maybe twenty or twenty-five more minutes when the forest suddenly ended and we saw only a few feet away, an old factory of some sort.

The sides were rusting metal; the windows had been broken so jagged pieces of glass shone in the sunlight. The place looked like no one had been there for years except for maybe a couple of generations of bored teenagers. I looked down and saw empty candy bar wrappers, potato chip bags, cigarette butts and pop cans.

"Well, when you said fixer-upper-" I began but Bobby glared at me so I shut up.

"Are you sure Sam's in there somewhere?" Bobby whispered. It seemed an unlikely place to hold a hostage, there were plenty of places I could see where someone could escape from, but I had no doubt Raphael had Sam-proofed it.

"So, are we just gonna sit here and hope something happens or are we going to actually do something?" I asked. I was getting antsy.

"We need to make sure the area is secure-" Cas said but he stopped when he noticed Abdiel had just walked out of cover of the forest and was now walking toward the factory as though on a Sunday stroll in Hyde Park.

The three of us held our breath. Nothing happened.

Abdiel turned around to face us, "it appears we were not duped."

Cas stepped forward and still no alarm was raised.

"We must make haste, though. Raphael will not be distracted for long," Cas said as he walked to the large, metal double doors of the factory that were padlocked shut.

"Then less yakking and more rescuing," I said and followed Cas.

Bobby stayed in the bushes as lookout.

The two angels and I stared up at the imposing structure of the factory.

"Can you open it?" I asked.

"Yes, but I prefer to be subtle. Can you pick the lock?" Cas said.

Lucky for me I always had my lock- pick kit in my back pocket. It was a force of habit from years with my Dad.

I crouched down and worked at the lock for a minute. It was ancient and rusted. I was afraid the mechanism was too deteriorated to work but then I heard the satisfying click of the latch opening. I stood and pulled the lock and chain away from the doors. The metal chain landed with a heavy thump on the dirt by my feet.

With Abdiel and Cas's assistance I pulled open the doors. The doors grated against each other and shrieked horribly.

The interior of the factory was covered in dust, debris and dead flies. We stepped inside and glanced around.

"Sam!" I called out.

Abdiel looked around and moved deeper inside the building.

We followed as he walked down a narrow hallway with grimy cinderblock walls and smudged linoleum floors. Abdiel paused at every door but then continued walking. The light was dim but I was able to see enough when the British angel stopped in front of a set of double doors secured with an ancient padlock.

"Here," Abdiel whispered.

"Stand back Dean," Cas pushed me gently until I had my back to the wall.

I watched in amazement as Abdiel broke the lock from the door as if it had been made of tissue paper. Next, Abdiel pushed the doors. They groaned in protest but slowly opened.

The room was dark inside. I couldn't tell its dimensions. Abdiel stood out of my way and I rushed into the room.

"Sam!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls.

"Dean?" I heard my brother's voice call from somewhere in front of me.

"Where are you?" I asked and stepped forward.

A light came on. A flashlight guided me to where Sam stood not a dozen feet away.

I said nothing but grabbed his sleeve and walked deliberately from the room. I made sure we were all the way down the hall before I stopped, released Sam's arm and looked at him.

Sam looked terrible. He was thin and his eyes were sunken, his skin a pale grey color. His nose looked like it had been broken and he had an ugly bruise on his cheek and a healing gash on his chin, there was dried blood on his shirtsleeves from when he'd apparently wiped his face.

Sam looked relieved though, just to out of that room.

"C'mon, we've got to get you back to Bobby's," I said and with Cas and Abdiel following we made our way out of the factory.

Sam raised an arm to shield his eyes from the late afternoon sun. Bobby stepped out of the woods, a concerned look on his face as he approached.

"Sam? What the hell happened to you?" the old hunter asked.

"I'll tell you all about it once we get out of here," Sam said, his voice raspy from lack of use.

Cas took hold of my arm and Bobby's arm. Abdiel touched Sam's arm. The familiar sense of vertigo began and as soon as it had started it ended and I was standing in Bobby's house with the old hunter and Cas.

Cas, Bobby and I appeared in the old hunter's living room first. I had a moment of panic before Sam and Abdiel appeared. Sam staggered a little but brushed my hand away when I reached out to help.

"That was almost too easy," Bobby said, seriously.

I didn't really care. I was just glad to have Sam back safe.

Sam refused to say anything about his imprisonment until he had taken a shower. I didn't blame him. He grabbed some clothes from his luggage and went upstairs.

We waited for close to an hour. Abdiel popped out to get some more cigarettes, Camels this time, and Cas just stood still as a statue.

Bobby cracked open a beer and handed one to me.

"Perhaps you should see if Sam is in need of assistance," Cas offered.

"Uh, no Cas. Sam's a big boy, I think he can handle things by himself," I said.

Cas opened his mouth to speak again.

"Cas, no. I am not going to barge in on Sam while he's in the washroom. That'd be…awkward," Cas's lack of understanding of personal space could be creepy sometimes.

"Just wait Cas. Sometimes you are so impatient for a being that has been alive for centuries," Abdiel said and blew smoke in the other angel's face.

"And don't say anything about a lack of time," Abdiel warned.

I still wasn't sure about the British angel after the revelation that he used to play on Lucifer's team but I was glad he shut Cas up.

I looked up automatically as Sam came slowly down the stairs. He held his old clothes bunched in his hands.

The shower had somewhat improved his appearance: his hair no longer looked greasy from being unwashed, he had shaved, his face wasn't grey but it was still pale.

He still looked exhausted and he kept his eyes cast downward, as if he was timid or nervous.

Sam sat his clothes down beside his luggage and walked into the living room.

Bobby offered Sam a beer; he accepted and sat on the couch.

No one spoke for a few minutes although Cas looked to be having a difficult time keeping silent.

"How're you feeling?" Bobby asked.

"Better than before," Sam said. He seemed to find the floor between his feet fascinating. Maybe he thought I was still pissed at him.

"How long was I gone for?" Sam asked, not looking up or speaking to anyone in particular.

"Almost six weeks," Bobby answered. Bobby was sitting in a faded pink wing backed chair his wife had obviously picked out. I sat in an equally faded blue one.

Abdiel was standing in front of the picture window, looking outside, his expression pensive. Cas stood a few inches beside the other angel.

"What did you find out?" Cas demanded.

Trust Cas to ruin the mood. Sam flinched as though the angel had struck him.

I glared at Cas from where I sat.

"Raphael knows about the Horsemen's Rings. I told him I didn't know where they were. Now he's looking for another way to free Lucifer, I don't know what it is," Sam muttered.

He just needs to take some more of those pills and he'll be okay, I thought.

"Is that it? Surely you must have more information?" Cas asked. He strode up to Sam and forced his head up so my brother was staring at him.

I shot from my seat and grabbed Cas's arm and pushed him away from Sam.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I demanded.

"Dean, we don't have time for these games," Cas said, "we need information on Raphael and Lucifer that is too important for Sam to withhold."

"Don't touch him," I said.

Cas looked angry.

"There are more important things in the world than your brother," Cas said.

There was nothing more important in my world than my brother, whatever Cas thought.

"It is convenient, don't you think, that whenever your brother is aware of crucial information he is unwilling to divulge it?" the angel spoke as though Sam wasn't even in the room with us.

"What are you suggesting?" I asked angrily.

"Perhaps your brother knows more about this than you or I do. Perhaps this bond with Lucifer-" Cas said but I interrupted.

I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"You get the fuck out," I said.

Cas paused for a moment, "Dean, listen to me-"

"Get the fuck away from us Cas. We're done. We're done with you and Lucifer and Raphael and all this angel shit." I turned to Sam and felt a breeze as the angel left.

"You leave too," I said, not even looking at Abdiel.

A gust of wind told me the Brit had left.

No one spoke. I was fed up with Cas and Abdiel making decisions for Sam, treating him like he had no rights. I knew I had gone overboard but I didn't regret it. Ever since Cas had returned he had treated Sam with what I saw as condescension and inferiority. We weren't going to be their pawns anymore. I was not going to let my brother be a means to their end.

Bobby spoke up, "want another beer?"

"Yes," I said and went to sit on the couch beside Sam.

He seemed to shrink into himself as I sat down.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. His voice cracked.

I closed my eyes. Stop saying that, stop saying that, stop saying that…

"For what?" I opened my eyes and looked at Sam.

"Cas was right. I…didn't tell you everything," Sam said quietly.

Bobby handed me a beer and sat back on the pink chair.

"You didn't have to. He had no right to force you," I said.

Sam shook his head, "I need to tell you. Cas would have freaked out so I didn't…"

Sam told me about his 'premonition' with Raphael and Lucifer's Seraph Blade.

"But it was wrong, we saved you," I said confidently.

"It doesn't really matter, if it's supposed to happen, it will. One way or another," Sam said.

"I don't believe that. We make our own destiny, remember?" I said and Sam said nothing.

I looked up at Bobby but the old hunter just stared back at me at a loss for words.

"Don't worry about it Sam. We're gonna get you fixed up and you're going to go back to Stanford and become a lawyer and marry some wonderful woman and have lots of kids and neither of us will have to think about hunting or angels or the Apocalypse ever again," I said. It sounded like a fairytale where they live 'happily ever after' in the end. And it was a fairytale, I knew, because we would always be haunted by our past, no matter how far we ran.

We stayed at Bobby's for two months. In that time I just focused on getting Sam well again. I made sure he took his pills and Sam seemed to improve. His depression lifted and he, for all appearances, was happier than at any time since he had come back. Sam's memories of Hell still haunted him, I knew, but he genuinely tried to get past them.

Bobby often remarked at the change in Sam, but we both wondered how long it would last. Sam and I drove up to Rapid City to get more pills and we just talked. We talked about everything and anything as long as it didn't have to do with the supernatural. I was astonished, as we drove to Rapid City, to find that I was learning things about my brother I had never known before, simply because we had only ever talked about hunting.

I called up Lisa, told her things were going well. I told her I might return sooner than expected. I talked to Ben, asked how school was going. I had to smile when he proudly told me he had received an A+ on his most recent math test.

I must admit that I was beginning to get restless. I guess the feeling was inherent from a life of never remaining in one place for long.

One evening, long after the moon had risen and neither Sam nor I could find sleep, I asked him if he'd like to leave.

"I mean, you don't have to come with me, you could stay here. I've been by myself before and I'm sure Bobby wouldn't mind the company…" I rambled. I just didn't want Sam to feel as if he had to come with me.

Sam shook his head, a slight smile on his lips, "what? And let you have all the fun? No way Dean, you're stuck with me."

I smiled. I was glad that Sam had agreed to go with me, heck; I couldn't believe that I had doubted him for a second. During the time we had spent at Bobby's Sam and I had grown close again, just like we used to be and I didn't want to jeopardize our rekindled relationship.

In the morning I told Bobby that we were going to head out and the old hunter seemed genuinely sad to see us go.

I couldn't help but chuckle at Bobby's morose expression, "you'll see us again."

Sooner or later, I thought and took a generous mouthful of hot coffee.

After a hearty breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, toast and coffee Sam and I packed all our stuff into the Impala's trunk and got into the car.

Just before we left Bobby came outside and went to the driver's side. I rolled down the window and the old hunter peered in at us.

"You boys look after each other, I mean it," Bobby almost glared at us suspiciously.

"Yes sir," I said and gave a mock salute.

Bobby retreated and I started the engine and backed slowly out of the junkyard.

I didn't know what Bobby was so worried about, I would never intentionally let any harm come to Sam.

We drove east into Iowa. We made it to Mason City in good time. The evening sun shone gold and orange and pink through the Impala's windows. We stopped at a tiny motel called Dot's and pulled up to the doors. The building itself was squat and a beige-grey colour with a decaying cedar shingled roof. The glass front doors looked like they had never been cleaned as they were covered in layers of fingerprints and dirt.

"Uh, you didn't see any other place when we came in did you?" I asked my brother. He shook his head and peered out the window.

"It's not too bad. We've stayed at worse places," Sam shrugged.

I sighed. He was right. We'd only be here for one night anyway.

I got out of the car and opened the door, careful not to touch the glass with my bare hand.

The interior lobby of Dot's motel was small and smelled of mould and cat shit. The floor was ancient, yellowed linoleum that my boots stuck to uncomfortably. The lighting was dim but I could see a lumpy, dark green chair huddled in one corner and a chipped wooden desk.

I walked to the desk that was unoccupied. It was scarred with the words of generations of travelers just passing through:

EDDIE B. '70, P.G + H.T = 4 EVER, MARCIA GERBER GIVES THE BEST BLOW JOBS!, AC/DC KAN KISS MY ASS, etc.

And on and on…

One scratching in particular caught my eye:

MONSTERS ARE REAL, AND GHOSTS ARE REAL TOO. THEY LIVE INSIDE US, AND SOMETIMES, THEY WIN.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked and I looked up.

Leaning on the desk was a young woman; she had to be in her early twenties, with peroxide blond hair and large blue eyes accented with generous amounts of makeup. She chewed gum in a bored kind of way. She was wearing a low-cut white blouse and a gold pin on her lapel stated her name was PATRICIA.

"Can I get one room with two single beds?" I said, uninterested in Patricia.

Patricia leaned to one side, looking past me to the Impala outside.

"Oh," she muttered, sounding both disappointed and slightly revolted.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, "he's my brother."

Patricia raised an eyebrow but grabbed a key off a hook behind the desk.

"How long will you be staying?" she asked and pulled out a pink cell phone and began to text someone.

"One night," I muttered and exited the lobby.

I drove around the building and found our room: 13B.

Once Sam and I had brought all the luggage in and had settled down I realized the room wasn't too bad.

It had a dingy brown carpet, light yellow walls, with some generic print of a meadow hanging on one wall. It was clean enough. It just smelled a little musty but at least it didn't stink like a litter box. A hulking television set sat on a long dresser and there was a small round table and two chairs in one corner.

I suddenly felt exhausted from the day's driving. All I wanted was to sleep. I checked my watch: 6:43.

It felt odd to have no researching or interviewing to do. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself.

Sam dug a book out of his bag and flipped it open. It was thick and looked like a text book.

I read the title: Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche. Obviously it was leftover from Stanford but I thought it a little strange that Sam would have it with his luggage the entire time and I had never seen it before.

"You hungry?" I asked to break the silence.

"Sure," Sam said and set the book aside.

We drove around the city for twenty minutes before we found a suitable place to eat. We ended up picking a restaurant that was virtually deserted except for the employees.

Sam and I slid into a booth at the back. The place was Italian themed with prints of Tuscany and Pisa and the Coliseum, etc. A scent of garlic, basil and tomato sauce permeated everything.

The floor was tiled in that checker board design, the tables had those red and white plastic covers over them and the lights had red shades causing everything to take on a crimson tint.

A waitress with black hair pulled into tight curls brought over menus and water. Both Sam and I ordered beer.

"Why are we here?" Sam asked as he looked at me from over his menu.

"To eat?" I joked.

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Why are we doing this?" Sam said, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Because…I was getting bored and wanted to do something," I answered.

I could tell by Sam's expression that my reply wasn't satisfactory.

"Why didn't we just stay with Bobby?" Sam asked.

"Why didn't you stay with Bobby?" I snapped.

"I didn't want to be alone," Sam muttered sheepishly. Of course he'd have Bobby for company but that wasn't what he meant.

I shrugged, "I don't know Sam. I guess I'm waiting, we're waiting."

The waitress came back with the beers and we ordered our food.

We sat in silence as we waited for the waitress to come back. It seemed to me the silences were growing, slowly and soon they would engulf us.

Sam seemed nervous- he kept looking around as though someone might be watching us. I guessed it was the hyper-vigilance caused by the PTSD.

"Did you take the pills today?" I asked and took a gulp of beer.

"Yes," Sam said furtively.

We didn't speak for a long while when the waitress returned with our food- we both just concentrated on eating.

My brother finished long before I did but I didn't hurry.

After paying for dinner Sam and I walked out of the restaurant. As we strolled to the car I looked over my shoulder and didn't see anyone following.

Once we started driving I spoke, "you're getting paranoid Sammy."

I didn't speak cruelly, I was stating an observation.

"Maybe," Sam muttered.

Our night in Mason City was uneventful. I channel surfed, not concentrating on the show I tried to watch. Sam sat on one of the beds, his back against the wooden headboard, reading that Nietzsche book. Around one thirty I turned off the TV and lay down on the other bed. After a couple of minutes Sam settled down to sleep as well.

I listened as my brother's breathing became slow and steady with sleep. I lay staring at the ceiling. I felt wide awake. I listened as Sam shifted his position and muttered something in his sleep.

Sam had never been one of those people who talk while sleeping. Even as a kid, he always slept silently. Ever since he'd returned from Hell though, he's been practically chatty. Most often if he was having a nightmare he would mumble incoherently but sometimes I'd be able to make out words.

Eventually I fell asleep. Only to wake up at six a.m. I grabbed some clothes and stepped into the bathroom.

When I finished showering and changing I stepped into the room and saw that Sam was already awake and waiting to use the facilities.

"Sleep well?" I asked, knowing full well Sam hadn't.

Sam shrugged, "yeah."

While Sam was getting ready I went to get us breakfast. I drove around aimlessly for ten minutes and then finally stopped at a coffee and donut shop. I got two large coffees and a box of a dozen assorted donuts.

Sam didn't say anything about my choice of breakfast food. As we ate I saw that my brother's face was scrunched up in his patented confused expression.

"What's up?" I asked and took a bite of a honey-dipped donut.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said.

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a skeptical look.

"I wonder what Raphael is waiting for," Sam said.

I stopped chewing, "what are you talking about?"

"Well, two months ago it seemed like Raphael had nearly found a way to break Lucifer out and since then we've heard nothing," Sam said.

"You think too much," I said and washed down half-chewed donut with hot coffee.

Sam looked a little insulted.

"It just means that the dick was bluffing," I said confidently.

"He's probably no closer to freeing Lucifer than I am winning the World Figure Skating Championship," I answered. I figured that no new was good news.

I finished eating and began to pack our stuff into the Impala.

"Don't forget to take your pills," I said just before I went to the lobby to pay.

"Yes Mother," Sam grumbled sarcastically.

This morning Patricia was wearing a tight fitting yellow t-shirt that did nothing to conceal the fact that she wore a blue bra. I set the room key down on the desk. Patricia was busy filing her nails.

"That'll be a hundred and twenty," she said, without looking up.

I fished a credit card from my wallet and paid.

We drove out of Mason City at a leisurely pace. I wasn't really in any hurry. I put on my Metallica cassette and listened to 'Turn The Page' and 'Wherever I May Roam'. Sam was quiet for the most part. As we drove down a lonely road with barren fields on either side I glanced at my brother; his eyes were closed but he was not asleep.

"You okay?" I asked, still looking at Sam.

He nodded slightly but said nothing.

After driving for a couple of more hours I glanced again at Sam. He had not spoken for the entire time we had been driving and I was getting slightly worried.

I was alarmed to see Sam was very pale. His now open eyes looked glassy.

"Sam? Are you alright?" I asked.

"No," Sam mumbled.

"Do you want me to stop?" We were in the middle of nowhere but if Sam needed me to stop driving for a while I would.

"I don't know. No, just keep going."

I continued to drive but kept a close eye on my brother.

He did not look good. Sweat was pouring down his face and he shivered as though cold, or if feverish.

"Sam!" I said loudly and he glanced at me.

"We're stopping at the next town," I said. What was happening? Sam had been getting better and now this?

We made it to Cedar Rapids and pulled into the parking lot of a motel styled in the Old English fashion. It was called the Eagle and the Hare.

I got Sam to come into the lobby with me. I didn't want to take my eyes off him for a minute.

The lobby was bright and clean; with floors of ceramic tiles, walls of cream and a reception desk of aged oak with no graffiti carved into it. Sam stood to one side trying hard not to look ill. At the desk I was greeted by a dapper older gentleman wearing a grey suit. I got the key to our room without the guy thinking Sam and I were 'together' together.

I opened the door to the room and Sam immediately went and collapsed on one of the beds. He pulled the blankets over himself fully clothed and closed his eyes.

Once I had moved our stuff into the room I crouched down close to Sam's face.

"I'm right here Sam," I said but he gave no indication that he could hear me.

I stood and moved to the other bed and turned on the television. The room had light green carpet, grey-green wallpaper with pink flowers on it, and rose-coloured bedspreads on four-post beds.

I ended up watching some news station, paying more attention to the sound of my brother's breathing than the weatherman on TV.

Sam was not asleep, his breathing was shallow and irregular but I didn't want to disturb him. I felt very helpless as I sat on the motel bed, having no idea how to alleviate Sam's suffering.

One hour slipped by, then two, then three. It was only early evening. I took my cell phone from my pocket, thought about calling Bobby, then decided against it. There was nothing the old hunter could really do from miles away anyway.

C'mon Sam, you're gonna be okay. We can get past this, I thought.

I was watching some documentary on China when Sam did something very odd.

He opened his eyes and sat up. He was staring straight ahead but at nothing at the same time; he was not in a motel in Cedar Rapids. He was somewhere else.

"Sam?" I said cautiously.

My brother gave no indication that he had heard me. And then he freaked out.

We had only been driving for a couple of hours when the nausea started. At first I didn't think much of it; I thought the coffee and donut breakfast hadn't agreed with me, that was all.

I didn't say anything to Dean; I didn't want to worry him.

I steadily felt worse and worse. Eventually Dean realized I was not well but I didn't want him to stop in the middle of nowhere. We drove for a while longer. My stomach cramped painfully and I felt alternately freezing or burning hot. I could feel the sweat running down my back and face. I tried to convince myself I just had food poisoning but I knew better.

I vaguely remember Dean saying that we were going to stop…and then nothing…

…Nothing. Darkness. Hell. I don't know how long it had been since I had jumped into the Cage. Hours? Days? Years? It didn't matter. All I knew was the misery visited upon me by Lucifer and little else. The faint hope I had of being saved had been extinguished. Lucifer had made sure of that. Not even the thought that six billion people were alive because of my sacrifice could assuage the pain.

I sensed Lucifer's presence and I tensed.

Please go away. Just leave me alone, go away. I just want it to end…

"But it will never end Sam. This is what you chose for yourself when you jumped," Lucifer said.

"You're lying," I said. I desperately wanted to believe that none of this was my fault, that I had not done this to myself, that for once I could be blameless.

But it was my fault, my doing. The choices I had made all came down to this.

"You're the one who said 'yes' to me Sam, no one forced you," Lucifer said.

"No one was holding a gun to my head but we had no choice, we were running out of time and options," I didn't know why I was trying to justify my actions, no one cared. I think I just needed to hear it myself.

Lucifer shook his head in the darkness, like an adult in the midst of explaining a particularly difficult concept to a small child.

"You would have done it Sam, whether Dean gave you permission or not. But with your brother's go-ahead you had someone to pin the blame on," Lucifer said.

I shook my head.

"Dean had nothing to do with this," I answered. I would not blame my brother for what had happened.

Dean had tried to stop me from saying 'yes' in the end.

"But if Dean really cared about you he would have attempted to save you by now I suspect," Lucifer said skeptically.

"I made Dean promise…that he wouldn't try and save me…" I whispered. I had made Dean give his word but knew that Dean would eventually ignore his promise. But that had not happened.

"You'll see," Lucifer said smugly, "that I am right."

Lucifer continued, "Dean is glad you're gone. He always considered you a burden, a ball and chain. Now he is happy that you're gone, he can have the life he always wanted."

"I'm sorry," I whispered to no one in particular, to Dean perhaps.

The Devil chuckled and electric pain enveloped me.

I cried out even though I knew no one would answer. Lucifer would never stop punishing me for what I had done.

The pain lessened and Lucifer spoke.

"It did not have to be like this you know. I was reasonable, wasn't I? I would have spared Dean and Bobby and Castiel. I never asked much of you, did I? And you felt strong, didn't you? Stronger than ever before? Invincible, because of me. No one would have ever called you a freak or a monster ever again…"

I squeezed my eyes shut. Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, please stop talking…

Lucifer continued, "but then you had to spoil it all. YOU HAD TO FUCK IT UP!"

Lucifer shouted and agony again paralyzed me.

The pain ended suddenly and I cried. I sobbed from the pain and the hopelessness that I felt. I wanted Dean. I just didn't want to be alone. I wanted this to end.

Lucifer sneered at me in the darkness.

"You're pathetic," he said. His voice was full of contempt.

"Please…"I whimpered, still sobbing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am sorry, please don't hurt me anymore. I'm sorry…" I cried but received no response.

Lucifer's presence abated as quickly as it had materialized…

Sam sat up for a number of minutes. His muscles tensed and then he began talking as though the other person was in the room with us. I realized with a jolt that Sam was talking to the Devil. Sam was hallucinating, like before but this seemed worse. I froze, I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to make it worse so I stayed where I was seated and watched my brother with growing horror.

When Sam cried out in pain I had to force myself not to jump to his aid. All my instincts told me to help my brother but my brain shouted at me to remain where I was. I watched, open mouthed as Sam flinched as if he had been struck and then he once again writhed in pain. When Sam started to cry I almost went to him. I was halfway up from the bed when my brother, through his sobbing, told Lucifer he was sorry and begged not to be hurt again.

Then Sam kind of looked around confused and I carefully walked over to him. He had no idea what had just happened, he didn't even seem to recognize the room or me.

I put a tentative hand on Sam's shoulder and gently pushed him so he was lying down.

"Just…just rest Sammy," I whispered, my voice cracking.

I didn't even wait to see if Sam was asleep before I left the room. I locked the door behind me and practically ran to the Impala. I started the engine and turned on the stereo, full volume until all I could here was 'Battery' and swerved out of the parking lot. I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. Tears of anger stung the corners of my eyes. I just drove. I didn't care where I was going.

I knew Sam had told me what had happened to him in Hell but hearing about it and seeing a glimpse of it were two different things. I was furious. I was furious at myself for giving Sam the go-ahead in the first place to say 'yes', I was furious at Lucifer for tormenting my brother and I was furious at Sam. I knew I should not be mad at Sam but I couldn't help it. I didn't even know why I was angry at him. Maybe I was angry that he was showing weakness, even though that was not fair on my part.

I drove until I had calmed down, then parked and took my phone out of my pocket and called Bobby. I stepped out of the car and stood next to it.

"What's up?" the old hunter said without a greeting.

"Sam…Sam. He had a hallucination again," I said, trying to keep my emotions under control.

I told Bobby about my brother's one-sided conversation. I told him that Sam seemed to believe he was still in the Cage with Lucifer for a few minutes.

"How long did it last?" Bobby asked, his voice full of concern.

"I don't know. Five or eight minutes tops."

"How is he now?" Bobby wanted to know.

"He's resting," I said. I left out the part about me not being in the room, I didn't need Bobby to get pissed at me. I just couldn't be near Sam right now.

"Be cautious Dean, Sam could be a danger to himself and others if it happens again."

I didn't think Sam was a danger to anyone; he had been practically paralyzed with fear.

"What am I going to do Bobby? Nothing is helping for long," I asked the old hunter, hoping he had some idea on how to help Sam.

"I don't know boy, just be vigilant is all I can tell you," Bobby said sadly.

"Maybe if you were still on speaking terms with Cas-" the hunter began but I made an angry sound deep in my throat.

"Well, just keep an eye on your brother," Bobby said and hung up the phone.

I leaned against the Impala and sighed. I hated feeling so helpless.

My cell rang and I checked the caller. It was Lisa. I didn't want to ignore her so I answered.

"Hey," I said.

"Dean? Where are you?" Lisa's voice asked from the other end.

"Cedar Rapids," I answered.

"I thought you were coming home," Lisa said. I was surprised she had said 'home'. I usually thought of it as 'Lisa's place'.

"Uh, Sam's not doing well" I said.

"Oh, of course" Lisa answered. Her voice was full of spite.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Every time you say you'll come back Sam gets sick again and you are postponed," Lisa said unkindly.

"Lisa, you know I want to be with you and Ben but I can't leave Sam alone," I said.

"Well, whether you think so or not you'veleft us alone," Lisa retorted.

"I'm not going to abandon my brother just because you're lonely. I miss you too but I am not rushing over there. I have a responsibility to Sam," I said.

"You know what Dean? I am getting tired of this 'I have to take care of Sammy' crap. You are not responsible for him, you are both adults and you shouldn't have to take care of him for the rest of your life," Lisa said angrily.

I felt anger flare up inside but I pushed it down.

"You and I can't have a relationship if your brother keeps getting in the middle. Everything was fine until he came back and then it all went to hell," Lisa continued.

"I am trying to get Sam well again so you and I can have a relationship," I said very slowly.

"Don't you take that condescending tone with me Dean Winchester," Lisa said.

"Look, Lisa it's not a good time right now-" I started.

"It's never a good time with you," Lisa said.

"I'm trying to help my brother, can't you understand that?" I snapped.

I was gripping the phone tight enough to make my fingers ache.

"Obviously whatever you're doing isn't helping so why don't you get Sam some professional help?" Lisa said in a sarcastic manner.

There was no way that I was going to get Sam professional help. Any doctor or psychiatrist would lock him up and throw away the key.

I sighed, "I'll call you soon."

"No, don't you hang up on-" Lisa said but I shut my phone.

I got back into the car and sat for a moment, unsure of what to do.

I ended up going to the library. I wanted to find out more about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and maybe I'd find something on people coming back from Hell if I was lucky.

The library was an old stone structure that loomed over the sidewalk like a grey matron. Inside it was cool with a slight scent of aged paper and dust and glue. The floor was grey tiles and carpet. The walls were neutral beige.

I found numerous books on PTSD and learned more about it and got a better description of the symptoms, etc. then Bobby had given me. I found out there wasn't a whole lot that we hadn't been doing for Sam.

I ended up finding nothing helpful about people being resurrected. There was a lot on near-death experiences and on legends about people who had returned from the dead but that wasn't what I needed. After I left the library I was still reluctant to go back to the motel so I found a bar and went inside.

I scoped out an empty booth at the back and slid in. The place smelled of booze, smoke and deep-fried food. It was dimly lit and rather deserted. A few regulars, I guess, sat at the bar but other than that the after- work crowd had not showed up yet.

A waitress came over and I ordered a beer.

Thoughts swirled around my head as I waited for my drink.

What was I going to do about Sam if he didn't get better? What would happen if Raphael broke Lucifer out of his Cage? Could I go back and live the suburban, white-picket fence life with Lisa again? What was going to happen to Sam?

I barely noticed when the waitress brought my beer. I drank without really enjoying it. I ordered another beer, and another and another…

As I drank my thoughts became more muddled. I couldn't focus on any particular one and they all seemed to fuse together into one big ball of unpleasantness.

I just didn't know what to do. I wanted to help my brother but for the life of me could not think of a single thing aside from having him committed which was the one thing I was the most unprepared to do. I knew sometime Sam might have to face Lucifer again but seeing what had just happened, I didn't think my brother would be up to traveling into Hell anytime soon. I glanced up at one of the three television screens mounted high up near the ceiling and watched some news station reporting an earthquake in the South Pacific that so far had left over a hundred people dead. I remained seated for several minutes, then went up to the bar and paid for the beer.

I left the bar and went to the car. I looked at the time on my cell phone; I had been gone for close to three hours. I decided I should go back to the motel and see how Sam was.

On my way back to the motel I stopped at a soup and sandwich shop to get dinner. I got back to the motel and parked. I sat in the car for a moment, then grabbed the food and walked to our room.

I opened the door and saw that my brother was awake. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching something on the TV.

Sam didn't look up as I entered but gave a distracted 'hi'.

"How're you feeling?" I asked.

"Okay," Sam shrugged. I was not going to tell him about his hallucination.

"I brought dinner," I said as though it was an excuse as to why I had been gone so long.

"Sure," Sam said, in that distracted voice.

I handed Sam a wax-paper wrapped sandwich. I watched as he unwrapped it and began eating without much enthusiasm. If I had asked, he probably wouldn't have been able to tell me what type of sandwich it was.

At least he's eating, I thought as I took a bite my own Swiss cheese, Black Forest ham and mustard sandwich.

Sam didn't ask me what I had been doing for nearly three hours and I was grateful.

The rest of the evening was spent in silence. I was lost in my own thoughts and Sam was just lost.

Shortly after midnight I turned to Sam, "we're going to head out tomorrow morning."

It was kind of an order, not a suggestion. Sam shrugged in response anyway.

I turned off the television and the overhead light so only the lamp on the nightstand between the two beds was lit. I made sure the door was securely locked and then laid down on my bed.

Obligingly, Sam turned off the lamp and lay down on his own bed. I listened until Sam's breathing became deep and regular with sleep and then allowed myself to drift…

I needed to find Sam. I glanced furtively around at my surroundings. I was in the middle of a hallway with floors of grey speckled tiles and walls of whitewashed cinderblocks. Overhead, row after row of fluorescent lights gave off harsh white glare. On either side of the corridor stood doors, one after the other, each one made of pale wood with a little meshed in window and a plaque for a name. I knew I was in some kind of hospital. The place was silent except for the sound of my breathing. Something told me I needed to find my brother before time ran out.

I rushed down the hall, my boots squeaking on the tiles. I glanced at every door as I passed. I knew Sam was going to be in one of those rooms.

As I hurried I caught glimpses of the names on the doors, many I knew.

Gordon Walker, Meg Masters, Anna Milton…

I stopped short. I stood in front of a door marked RUBY and peered inside. Ruby stood just beyond the door, looking exactly as I remembered her. Her eyes were a coal-black colour and she grinned at me maliciously.

"You'll never reach him in time," Ruby said and gave a cold, hard laugh.

I backed away from the door and kept running down the hall. Where was all the staff? I wondered.

I turned a corner and almost ran into Cas. Instead of his usual tan trench coat, the angel was wearing a white lab coat; the type doctors like to wear.

"What-" I began but Cas interrupted.

"Follow me," the angel said and walked briskly down the hallway, his white coat fluttering out behind him.

Very confused, and completely forgetting that I was supposed to be angry at the angel right now, I followed.

Almost on top of Cas's heels, I nearly ran to keep up with him. I passed more doors with even more names, some of them from people half-forgotten.

Tempted by curiosity I peered into some of the rooms. Their occupants either urged me on, begging me to find my brother or condemned my efforts.

"Where are we going?" I asked Cas as we took so many turns down halls that I grew confused, sure I wouldn't be able to find my way back.

Cas didn't answer.

"Where's Sam?" I tried again but received no response.

"Where am I?" I ventured.

Almost as if to answer my question, the Metallica song 'Sanitarium' came on over the PA system.

Cas stopped and I nearly ran into him. We were standing before a door with a plaque that clearly stated SAM WINCHESTER resided inside the room.

I looked at Cas and watched as he pulled out a skeleton key and unlocked the door and pushed it. The door swung inwards without a sound.

I peered inside the room then stepped cautiously inside. The room was empty.

There was a sharp click as the door closed and Sam stepped out of the shadows where he had not been only moments before. He was wearing white hospital pajamas, his feet were bare.

"Sam?" I asked. He had an odd expression on his face. I couldn't tell what it was.

He stepped close to me and gave a sardonic grin.

"Dean," he said in a tight voice.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Sam's grin grew wider and more malignant.

"I've never been better, Dean. Thanks to you," Sam said in a falsely sweet voice.

I was starting to become very nervous. I began to sidle toward the door.

"What's the matter Dean? Leaving so soon? You just got here," Sam said. His grin took on a mocking look. His eyes flashed with rage.

"You're not Sam," I said and grabbed for the doorknob.

The door didn't move. I was locked inside with this thing masquerading as my brother.

"Of course I am. What else would I be? Why don't you want to stay? Am I too much of a burden? Would you rather just cast me away? Hand me over to strangers who wouldn't understand me? Have me labeled as 'insane' and sent to some far off place so you wouldn't have to think of me again?" Sam said, advancing on me.

"No, of course not! I'm gonna find some way to get you better. I'd never abandon you," I tried to assure him although I wasn't doing a good job of it, considering where we were.

"So you can have a happy life with Lisa and Ben in some gingerbread house with a white-picket fence and I am shoved out of sight in some asylum. I embarrass you. You're ashamed of me," Sam said, grinning manically the entire time.

I shook my head. I would never do that to Sam. Never.

"Or would you prefer it if I went back to Hell? At least you wouldn't have to see me again. You think I'm a freak, that I'm a monster!" Sam began backing away from me. I could still hear 'Sanitarium' through the speakers loud and clear.

I watched in horror as Sam looked straight into my eyes and pulled a Seraph Blade from behind his back. The silvery angel weapon looked like any other I had seen but I knew this one had once belonged to Lucifer.

I realized what he was going to do and reached out to stop him.

"No!" I shouted as Sam plunged the Blade into his stomach.

I stared in horror as Sam gazed up at me, almost proudly, and stabbed himself a second time. The entire time Sam's eyes burned with hatred.

The front of Sam's shirt quickly darkened with blood. The crimson liquid pattered loudly onto the tiled floor.

"Stop it! Stop it!" I begged.

"Is this what you want Dean? Will this make you happy? It would, wouldn't it? Then maybe I'll never have to see the revulsion in your eyes every time you look at me," Sam said as his blood pooled at his feet.

Suddenly the song on the PA system changed to 'Smoke on the Water'. I looked up for a second, confused. Sam's words still ringing in my ears…

I woke with a jolt and realized there was an incoming call on my cell phone. I grabbed the phone from the nightstand and answered it, moving to the door and stepping outside as I did so.

"Dean?" It was Lisa again.

I leaned against the sandstone wall of the motel and watched dusty moths flutter around the orange outside light above the door. It was a warm, still Iowa night. My nightmare still fresh in mind, I couldn't stop thinking about Sam's eyes, dark and smoldering with hatred. Did Sam really hate me? Or was it my guilty subconscious just manifesting my unfounded fears?

"Are you there Dean?" Lisa asked. Her voice was still harsh.

"Uh…yeah. Look, It's late and I'm tired, can't we argue in the morning?" I asked.

"No Dean, we need to talk now," Lisa paused as if trying to figure out how to say what was coming next.

I held my breath and waited for the tirade.

"I'm pregnant," Lisa blurted out, as though she couldn't hold the words in any longer.

Pregnant? My brain didn't want to process the meaning of that one word.

"Who's the father?" I asked. I felt numb.

"You of course," Lisa said.

"But I've been gone for three months…" I began and then I thought of that night.

Two weeks before Sam came back, Ben had gone on a camping trip with his class, something the teacher wanted to do so the kids would learn about conservation or something. Lisa and I had been alone in the house for four days and with the kid away we had been more intimate than usual…

"You're three months pregnant and you didn't tell me!" I asked. I couldn't believe that Lisa would keep something this important from me.

"You rushed out Dean, with your brother and there never seemed to be a good time to tell you because we were always fighting!" Lisa snapped.

"Like now," I said.

"Yes! ... That's not fair, Dean!" Lisa answered indignantly.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I had an idea she wanted me to run back to Cicero now that I knew I was going to be a father.

Wow, even thinking about it felt weird.

"I need you to come home, Dean." Lisa said. My suspicions were correct.

"I will. Soon. I promise," I said.

"That's what you said last time!" Lisa argued.

I sighed. I wasn't going to leave Sam stranded and rush back to Lisa's side.

"I can't come right now but I will as soon as I get Sam sorted out," I said.

Lisa made a choked noise on the other end of the line. She started to cry.

"I will come and visit as soon as I can," I said, trying to comfort her.

"This is all your brother's fault! If he had never come back you wouldn't be off to God-knows-where! Get rid of your brother Dean! Or don't bother coming back!" Lisa practically screamed into the phone.

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to lose Lisa and Ben and now the baby, but I didn't want to lose Sam either.

Without opening my eyes I closed my phone. I hoped Lisa was just moody because of the hormones. How could she be so cold? She had a sister that she'd do anything for so why couldn't she understand I had to do everything I could to save my brother?

The door to our room opened and I looked up. Sam stepped outside.

"Did I wake you?" I asked.

Sam shook his head, "I wasn't asleep. What's up?"

I was glad Sam was a little better tonight, less despondent and more lucid.

"Lisa called…I'm going to be a Dad," I said calmly. The idea still hadn't sunken in yet.

I slid my back down the wall until I was in a sitting position, my legs tucked under me. Sam sat down likewise, his long legs splayed out in front of him.

Sam looked at me and smiled. Not the toxic smile in my nightmare, but a genuine smile for my happiness.

"Congrats," Sam said.

"Thanks," I said.

I wondered, for a brief moment, if Sam blamed me for all that had happened since I had shown up at Stanford.

I turned to my brother and looked right at him. Trying to read the expression in his eyes. I saw only a familiar haunted look and a deeper sliver of pain. I saw compassion but no hate.

I breathed a sigh of relief. What did Sam see when he looked at me? I knew I didn't feel adversely toward Sam, no matter what he did he was still my brother and I still loved him.

I didn't want any chick-flick moments but I still wanted Sam to know that I was on his side, no matter what happened, and I'd always be on his side.

"You know we're going to fix this? That I'd never let any harm come to you?" I asked in a whisper, not looking at Sam.

I couldn't see his face but I could hear his confused voice, "of course Dean. Why suddenly sentimental?"

I shook my head and laughed Sam's question away. We didn't speak for a long while.

A father. I was going to be a father. I could barely believe that it was true. I felt oddly giddy with the knowledge.

I felt slightly awkward after my brief show of brotherly affection. I stood and walked the couple of steps to the edge of the parking lot.

The light from the city made it impossible to see the stars. The sky was black and cold-looking.

Sam spoke up, "what do you think is going to happen if we can't fix this?"

I turned around and looked at Sam, sitting against the wall. The overhead light cast his face into shadow.

Sam wasn't asking about Lucifer. He wanted to know what I planned on doing about the PTSD. Sometimes it seemed to be getting better, other times it was worse.

I knew what Lisa's answer would be if I asked if Sam could stay with us. I didn't know what I was going to do if Sam didn't get better. Sam had always been the one with the answers, and now that it was my turn I didn't know what to say. I wanted to be realistic but I didn't want to be a pessimist.

"If, after everything that is going to happen happens and you're still not a hundred percent, I'm sure you could stay with Bobby," I said. This seemed like the most preferable arrangement and I was sure Bobby would be fine if Sam hung out at his place.

Sam nodded but said nothing.

"Just…just don't send me to any…hospital," Sam said.

I nodded. I was going to do everything in my power to not have to do that to Sam.

After a few minutes we went back inside and tried to sleep until our six o'clock alarm went off. Neither of us slept for the rest of the night but Sam didn't say anything so I didn't either.

After a quick breakfast of coffee and drive-thru Egg McMuffins Sam and I were back in the Impala and headed toward Davenport and Illinois after that.

As we drove down a dusty road, barren of any vegetation I turned on the radio but all that came out was static.

Sam raised an eyebrow but I shrugged, even though the lack of radio frequencies creeped me out just a little bit.

We drove in silence. I was thinking about the nightmare from last night. I wasn't sure if it was just a regular nightmare, which it probably was, but the fact that Cas had been in it made me doubtful.

I thought about what Sam might have to do in order to kill Lucifer. Traveling to Hell seemed out of the question, but what if Raphael did succeed in getting the Devil Topside again? Could Sam kill Lucifer then? Would he be able to? Could we just send the son of a bitch back to Hell some other way? I thought that this time I could do some research on the subject, try and find anything at all that we could use so we'd be prepared this time and Sam wouldn't have to repeat what he'd done before. We passed through Davenport without stopping and crossed over into Illinois. I made a bee-line for Peoria. I tried the radio and got only static except for some station with classical Mozart crap. I sighed but didn't turn it off, it was better than silence.

I wanted to call Lisa and ask about the baby; was it a boy or a girl? But I hesitated. I did not want yet another confrontation.

A cell phone rang and both Sam and I jumped. My brother dug his phone from the pocket of his jeans and looked at it for a second as if he'd never seen such a thing before.

"Answer it," I said.

Sam flipped the phone open and held it to his ear, "hello?"

Sam's voice sounded unsure.

"Sarah!" Sam exclaimed.

I looked over at my brother. Sarah who? My expression asked.

Sam gave his head a little shake.

"It's good to hear from you," Sam said.

Sarah spoke, I didn't catch her words.

"I've been kind of preoccupied for a while…"Sam said.

I was surprised Sam sounded almost normal again while talking to this Sarah.

I racked my brain, trying to figure out who it could be. She couldn't be a hunter, but maybe she was someone we had helped. I didn't know though, Sam usually didn't get calls from girls we had saved from monsters or whatever.

Sam's face took on a grim expression, "I'm sorry to hear that."

In seconds though, Sam's face lit up happily again.

"We're kind of headed your way right now. I'd love to catch up too," Sam answered a question from Sarah.

"Give me your number and I'll be sure to call you when I know what we're doing," Sam said.

He said goodbye to this mysterious Sarah and added her number into his phone.

He looked up at me and his expression changed, became reserved.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Sarah Blake. You remember, her father was an art auctioneer in New York," Sam said.

I suddenly remembered. Sarah Blake. That had been five years ago though.

"What do you mean 'was'?" I asked.

"Her father passed away this past summer," Sam said.

"Oh," I didn't know really what to say.

"Sarah wants us to come up to Albany and visit," Sam said, "and since we're kind of headed in that direction…"

Sam trailed off.

"Sure, why not. I don't have anything better to do," I answered.

Before we had left Albany all those years ago, Sam had given Sarah his phone number- in case she needed our help again, he had added. Now it seemed like we needed Sarah's help instead.

I liked how Sam had smiled when he was talking to Sarah, how, just for a couple of minutes he seemed okay again.

The atmosphere in the car seemed lighter as we entered Peoria just before eight o'clock in the evening. We stopped at a motel called the Elm Arms. A fancy name for a bland place. Everything in the motel room was beige: the carpet, the walls, the bedclothes, the ceiling, even the bathroom seemed beige and boring. At least it was clean and cheap though. I offered to go pick up dinner. Sam, knowing I wanted to be alone, said that was okay and pulled his Nietzsche book from his duffel bag.

I drove slowly through the sleepy streets of Peoria. Elm trees lined the sidewalks, casting long shadows in the dusk. I found myself a bar and had a few drinks. I needed just some time to try and relax and not think about what was happening to Sam- if only for a few hours.

While I was driving back to the motel I had a moment of panic when a police cruiser pulled up beside me at a red light. I immediately regretted the beers I had drank and hoped the cops wouldn't think I was wasted- I wasn't, but I wasn't in the mood to be pulled over and given a Breathalyzer test. When the light changed to green the cruiser pulled ahead of me and sped away. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

I parked the Impala as close to the room as possible and opened the door with the key-card. Sam was sitting up in one of the beds, the Nietzsche book laying on the nightstand between the beds. The TV wasn't on and the radio was silent. How long had Sam just been sitting there?

"Sam, are you okay?" I asked. I stepped further into the room and peered at my brother. His face was pale in the lamplight; he had dark circles under his eyes.

"Yeah, just tired," Sam muttered unconvincingly and turned out the light. I heard him move as he lay down on the bed and I was left to remove my shoes, etc. in the dark.

As I lay on my back in the other bed I decided that I would take Sam to Albany. Maybe staying in one place for a while would help Sam get better. Maybe seeing a familiar face that wasn't Bobby's or mine would help Sam. Maybe it was just wishful thinking and nothing I did could help Sam now…


	8. Heal My Wounds

We had been driving for three days almost without stop. I just wanted to get to New York. Somehow the thought of the distant state made me feel safer.

We had left Peoria and drove all the way to Indianapolis, Indiana. Now we were just about to enter Ohio.

I had Sam phone Sarah and tell her we were coming but soon I began to regret my decision.

I shouldn't be driving Sam all over the country. Ever since we had begun driving again Sam's condition deteriorated. The short time he had been okay was gone and now he just looked ill.

He wasn't eating again and he looked as gaunt and pale as ever. He seemed to shrink into himself, as much as his six foot four inch frame would allow anyway. I seriously considered taking Sam to a hospital.

I felt helpless. Unable to make my brother better I felt like I had failed somehow. I knew there was little I could do but that didn't make me feel any less guilty.

When I asked Sam what was wrong he didn't answer. He just looked past me, saying nothing.

I wanted to talk to Cas, at least he was someone else who knew what was going on, but I hesitated. I don't know why, I didn't feel safe with the idea of having the angel back with us again.

I tried to help Sam all I could. I tried to get him to eat but he simply refused. I kept telling him that we were going to see Sarah, as if he didn't know that already, but he didn't seem to hear me.

What would Sarah think when I showed up at her door with Sam looking like he belonged in the ICU? Everything was spinning out of control; I couldn't get a firm grasp on anything, like I was sliding down the side of an iceberg into frigid waters.

I wanted to take Sam to a hospital but I didn't know what any doctor could do for Sam. All I could do was watch and make sure he took his pills.

Thankfully, when we stopped in Columbus, Sam seemed to get a little better. We stopped at a little no-name motel for the night and I ordered us an extra large pizza.

Between the two of us we finished the entire pizza. I was pleased that Sam had his appetite back.

We spent a quiet night watching Ultimate Fighter on the T.V.

When I was sure Sam was asleep I stepped outside and took a few deep breaths of the cool August night air.

I stayed outside for almost a half-hour, not thinking, or at least, trying not to. I wanted this to be over, for Sam's sake. I didn't want him to suffer any more. I didn't want to lose him again though. I did not know how Sam was going to find the strength to fight Lucifer if that is what it came down to in the end. I knew Lucifer was not stupid, I mean, before when we had planned to use the Horsemens' rings to send him back to Hell he had known about them without anyone telling him so I had no idea how Sam was going to manage to kill the Devil with his own Seraph Blade. I felt like this was all a giant jigsaw puzzle and I was missing the most crucial piece that would bring the entire picture to light but I just couldn't seem to figure it out.

I eventually went back inside but lay awake for the rest of the night, listening to Sam's troubled sleep.

"We'll find a way Sam. Don't worry, I'll protect you," I whispered into the darkness.

After another three days of driving we were almost in Sunbury, Pennsylvania. We had stopped in a little village called Stoneburgh. The village had only one really old motel, one restaurant, a grocery store and a water-tower. That was pretty much it, aside for maybe two dozen houses.

Sam had not been getting better, but he wasn't getting worse. He was eating and that was good but he was getting less and less sleep. His eyes were dark and bruised-looking. He was listless and hardly spoke. I could barely get one-word answers from him. He was tense all the time, jumpy at every loud noise or sudden movement. Over and over again I thought about what Sarah's reaction would be when she saw Sam. I hoped she would be compassion personified and wouldn't slam the door in our faces. I guessed that we could go back to Bobby's if Sarah ended up being a bitch.

After a subdued dinner in our motel room I spoke to Sam. I wanted to know what was wrong.

"Raphael's getting closer to breaking Lucifer free," Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the most he had spoken in a long while.

I said nothing. What could I say? I just nodded.

Sam went to bed unusually early, almost as soon as dinner was finished. Leaving me to think, sitting in the darkness.

The next morning we got up at five and headed out. I wanted to get to Albany that day or the next.

After a half-hour of silence as we drove, I put my Motorhead cassette in and listened to 'Another Perfect Day', 'Bite The Bullet', 'I Am The Sword', and 'Them Not Me'.

Sam just stared out the passenger window the entire time.

It was around midnight when we entered Albany. I felt relief, we were here.

Sam was sleeping, but I knew where to go. During our second phone call to Sarah she had told us she lived at 3113 Trafalgar Court.

I drove around for almost an hour trying to find the place but finally I saw the street sign and drove down what was obviously the rich part of the city. Large houses loomed on raised lawns. I almost missed Sarah's house. It was set back from the road at the end of a cobblestone driveway.

The house itself was not a mansion but it was pretty big. It was redbrick with dark, ceramic shingles on the roof. There was a two-car garage and flourishing flowerbeds with rosebushes in them. I parked the Impala and just stared at the place for a couple of seconds. I was steeling myself for a negative reaction.

I gently shook Sam's shoulder to wake him.

"We're here," I whispered.

Sam looked up through the windshield and then opened the car door and stepped out.

I got out and locked up. I stood beside Sam and we walked up the small set of steps to the dark green front door.

I jabbed the doorbell quickly. Seconds passed and no one answered.

Maybe we were at the wrong house. Maybe we shouldn't have come in the middle of the night. Maybe-

The front door opened and a young woman stood there. She was wrapped in a fluffy blue bathrobe. I noticed matching slippers on her feet. Her long black hair was loose on her shoulders. Her grey eyes alert.

"Sam?" Sarah said.

"Hi," Sam managed.

"Come inside," Sarah held the door open and Sam and I stepped inside.

We paused to take off our shoes and glanced around the front hall. It had stained oak floors and the walls were painted a light green, almost grey.

I straightened up first and Sarah looked at me, nodded in Sam's direction and gave me a questioning look.

Long story, I mouthed as Sam straightened.

"It's good to see you Sam," Sarah said cautiously as we followed her down the hall and into a large living room.

The living room had a fuzzy white carpet and a chocolate brown couch and four matching chairs. A fireplace with warm coals took up one wall. Above the black and white streaked marble mantel was a painting of a country meadow in fall, the long grasses golden and leaves of crimson, yellow and orange blowing in an invisible wind against a very blue sky.

"Is there anything I can get you? Tea or coffee?" Sarah asked.

"Coffee please," I answered. Sam nodded in agreement.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Sarah said and padded toward the kitchen.

I sat down on one of the dark brown chairs and found it very comfortable.

I felt kind of guilty for showing up in the middle of the night when Sarah had obviously been asleep. Sam stood by the fireplace, his back to me, staring at the coals.

I tried to relax but I couldn't. I wasn't sure about Sarah's reaction. I needed to tell her what was going on, but right now I didn't want to think about any of that.

Sarah came back into the room, holding two mugs of coffee. She handed one to me and one to Sam.

Sarah sat down on the couch. She seemed to have completely forgotten about sleep.

"What happened?" Sarah asked.

She didn't ask 'What have you been up to?' or something like that. She knew what Sam and I did, used to do and understood we lived on the edge, so to speak.

"It's a long story…" I began. I didn't want to go telling what had occurred since we left her so long ago. Sam should be telling her the story, not me, but right now he barely said two words to anyone.

"I understand," Sarah said and began telling us where her life had taken her since we had last seen her.

She had worked with her father, Daniel; auctioning art, until he was diagnosed with cancer.

The doctors tried surgery and chemotherapy but that only slowed the cancer down, it didn't stop it completely. Sarah took over her father's business while he was in the hospital and when he died he had given everything to her.

"And I thought you had won the Lottery," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Sarah was actually a little embarrassed to have such a wealthy-looking house for just herself.

"It's much too big for me," Sarah said, a little demure.

"It's nice," Sam spoke up without turning around.

"Thanks, but I am thinking about moving into a bungalow or something next year," Sarah answered.

We continued to talk, about mundane things, stuff we'd heard in the news or whatever until around three in the morning.

When we were all ready to admit we were tired, Sarah showed Sam and I to a couple of guest bedrooms.

I went inside and closed the door and without turning on the light, fell onto the bed, not even bothering to pull the blankets around myself.

The next morning I woke early; the sky was still pre-dawn grey outside when I looked out the window. I saw that the hallway was long and narrow, with oak floors and walls painted in a warm cream colour, the wooden floors were covered in long Persian rugs. I walked down the stairs, looking at the photographs framed on the wall; pictures of Sarah as a baby, a little girl, a graduation picture from high school, posing with her father; one photo of a tall, birdlike woman with long black hair whom I assumed was Sarah's mother…

I found my way to the kitchen where Sarah was already up. The kitchen had a high, white ceiling, black slate floors and black granite countertops. The drawers and cupboards were wooden, stained dark green. Every appliance was new and top-of-the-line. An island with bar stools sat in the middle of the kitchen. Sarah was sitting with a mug of coffee in front of her.

"Early riser too?" I asked. I had been a little surprised to see Sarah up at the crack of dawn.

Sarah smiled, "I like watching the sun rise, even in the city."

I smiled back.

"Have some coffee," Sarah offered.

I took a mug from the dozen that hung on hooks from underneath a cupboard and poured myself some coffee than sat down across from Sarah.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was very aware that I had slept in my shirt and jeans and that they were wrinkled. Sarah wore a freshly laundered pink t-shirt and her black hair was up in a loose bun this morning.

"What's wrong with Sam?" Sarah asked. She set her mug down and looked at me; her grey eyes were like steel.

"He has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," I answered.

"What?" Sarah exclaimed.

Like most people, she knew a little about what PTSD was. She knew that victims of violence sometimes developed it but she didn't really know much about it.

I gave her a summary of what the symptoms were and I told her that Sam was taking medicine for it.

"Has he seen a doctor?" Sarah asked.

I shook my head.

"It's because of what you do, isn't it?" Sarah asked, as though she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," I said and took a gulp of coffee.

Sarah didn't speak; she just stared at the coffee in her mug.

"Sam can stay here as long as he needs to," Sarah said. She looked up and her face was determined.

"Thank you," I said and stood and got more coffee.

I was relieved that Sarah was willing to have Sam stay with her. Maybe things would be better from now on…

After my second cup of coffee I went out to the Impala and grabbed our duffel bags then went back upstairs and took a much needed shower.

When I came back to the kitchen Sam was sitting at the island with Sarah. They were sitting across from each other and just looking at one another without speaking.

I stood in the doorway so as not to disturb them and realized for the first time just how much Sam had changed in the past years. Of course his physical appearance was different; his hair was longer, his face leaner, his eyes had a different light in them. He wasn't the happy-go-lucky college kid anymore, he had been through Hell and that was bound to change anyone. He was very pensive, quiet; he took time to think of the words before his spoke, he was less quick to smile…

It looked to me as though Sarah was trying to find the Sam she had met so long ago as she gazed intently into my brother's face. I pitied her, she wouldn't find him. The old Sam was gone.

Sarah noticed my presence and sat up, blushing with embarrassment.

I wasn't going to make a deal out of it, "your stuff's in the bathroom Sam."

Sam nodded and took his leave to shower and change his clothes.

"Are you hungry? I have cereal," Sarah stood as she spoke.

"Whatever you have is fine," I said. I didn't want to make Sarah more awkward then she appeared to be.

Sarah opened a cupboard, took out a bowl and went to a pantry to retrieve a box of Corn Flakes. She got a carton of milk from the fridge.

Sarah poured a generous amount of cereal into the bowl and splashed some milk into it. She fished a spoon from a drawer and handed me the bowl and spoon.

Now I felt awkward that I had just stood there while Sarah served me.

"Not hungry?" I asked, thinking I could get her to relax.

"I'm not a big fan of breakfast," Sarah said and sat down.

I took a seat and ate the cereal in silence.

When I finished I stood and so did Sarah.

"Let me," I said and moved to the sink already filled with soapy water and our coffee mugs.

"But you're a guest," Sarah said.

"And you're a lady," I said. It sounded corny but it seemed to work, "besides, I know how to wash dishes."

Sarah smiled and sat down again.

"Dean, can I ask you a serious question?" Sarah said. She looked up at me from where she sat. I turned around to face her.

"What?" I asked.

"Why did you bring Sam here?" Sarah asked.

"I thought seeing a familiar face would be good for him. I thought it'd be good for him to hang around someone other than me for a while," I said.

Sarah nodded, "I'll try to help him if I can."

After Sam came back downstairs Sarah showed us her backyard. It was large, with gardens and trees. It was actually really pretty. A high wooden fence blocked off the view for any nosy neighbours.

As we walked Sarah moved close beside Sam, close enough to walk alongside him but not close enough to touch.

I could hear the chirp of crickets and the singing of birds. I decided that I could probably leave Sam and Sarah alone for a little while so I asked Sarah if she needed anything picked up from the grocery store or whatever.

"Dean, you don't have to do that," Sarah said.

"I don't mind," I answered, trying to silently tell her that she and Sam needed to be alone.

"Well, if you don't mind…can you pick up…?" Sarah listed off a half dozen foods that she obviously didn't need and I left the house like a man on a mission.

I was gone longer than I needed to be. I wanted Sam and Sarah to get used to each other though and so I went to a small bar and had a couple of beers.

I was just about to pay when Crowley appeared in the seat across from me. The demon was dressed all in back- black dress shirt, black tie, black suit jacket; I didn't need to look to know that he also had black pants and shoes as well.

"What the fuck do you want?" I hissed at the demon.

"Can't I stop by for a chat with an old friend?" Crowley asked in a sarcastic tone.

I gave him a pointed look but said nothing.

"Look, I know you're trying to find out how to get rid of Old Scratch and I just thought that I'd give you a push in the right direction," the demon confessed.

I blinked. Why did it seem like Crowley wanted to help us?

"What game are you playing?" I asked and paused to order one more beer from the waitress. What could it hurt?

"I'm not playing any game, Dean. I do have an interest in what you and your brother are doing and I think I could help you out since you seem to be having some trouble," Crowley said as though I was stupid.

I laughed, "you want to help us?"

The waitress returned with my drink. I opened the bottle and gulped down some of the liquid.

Crowley stared across the table at me, waiting patiently.

"So, how can you help us?" I asked with a grin I couldn't suppress.

"I know when the angels are going to release Lucifer," Crowley said.

I stopped smiling, "how?"

"C'mon Dean, no one can as much as sneeze in Hell without me knowing about it. I am not so self-absorbed as to not know what's happening on my own turf," Crowley said. I still didn't understand how Crowley knew what Raphael and the other angels were doing; I thought he was just a Crossroads Demon, wasn't he?

Crowley sighed when he saw my blank expression, "I've taken up a new managerial position so I now am aware of everything that happens in Hell. In other words, I'm King of Hell now."

"Congratulations, was there a vote?" I said sarcastically, "when is this jailbreak going to happen?"

"Four weeks tops," Crowley answered in a bored voice, he paused to inspect his nails so he wasn't looking at me.

I gaped. Four weeks? Four weeks!

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Crowley nodded, "that archangel seems to have found a possible way to let Lucifer out of his prison and he isn't wasting any time."

I quickly took a gulp of beer, hoping as I did so to get control of my emotions.

"That's it? Four weeks and then we have to find the Seraph Blade and hope we can get close enough to Lucifer to kill him?" I asked. If Crowley was just here to let me know when to start counting down the days until Sam's funeral he was wasting his breath.

Crowley leaned back in his seat and tented his fingers, "well, here's the rub: how is Sam going to kill the Devil?"

I paused. Crowley was asking me how we'd thought we would kill Lucifer.

"Uh, well I guess once Raphael lets Lucifer out, we find his Seraph Blade and kill him," I said a lot less confidently than I would have if I had been asked a couple of months ago.

"What? You're just going to ambush the Devil and stab him?" Crowley asked like it was the most idiotic idea ever conceived.

"I don't know. We haven't really thought about the mechanics of it!" I exclaimed.

"Dean I knew you weren't a genius but I didn't think you were that thick. There is no way in Hell you or your brother would just be able to saunter up and stab Lucifer to death," Crowley admonished me for my stupidity.

"I suppose you have a better idea?" I practically growled.

The demon nodded sagely, "the only way to get close enough to Lucifer to kill him is for Sam to say 'yes' and stab himself with the Seraph Blade."

My breath caught in my throat. Sam would have to do the one thing he feared most of all and allow himself to be possessed by that monster again. I thought back to the nightmare I had had in Cedar Rapids and how disturbingly accurate it had been, given this new information. I guessed that I had known all along what Sam would have to do once we obtained the Seraph Blade but I had tried my best to ignore what was reality in favour of some hopeful fantasy.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and found my mouth was very dry. I drained the last of my beer.

"There has to be another way," I said. I couldn't imagine Sam having to do as Crowley suggested.

"That is the only way I know of," Crowley answered and took no notice of my distress.

"I know this is all very heartbreaking but it would be a lot worse if I didn't say anything and you two morons just went on your merry way and got yourselves killed, or worse," Crowley said.

"Fuck you," I snarled and set money on the table to pay for the beer. I stood and walked toward the exit, leaving Crowley to sit in the booth. The demon remained where he was, he didn't follow- his job was done.

I drove back to Sarah's slowly. I couldn't stop thinking about those two words: four weeks, four weeks, four weeks…

Tears of anger and sadness stung my eyes until I finally had to pull off onto the shoulder and stop the car. I took huge gulps of air, trying to contain my emotions but they poured out in waves. I couldn't tell Sam, at least not yet. We had only just got to Sarah's and I couldn't bear to tell him the news. I didn't want to believe Crowley, I wanted to believe that the demon was lying through his teeth but so far no one else had really suggested an alternative way to kill Lucifer and in a way it did make sense. We were fooling ourselves if Sam and I thought we'd just be able to sneak up on the Devil and stab him in the back.

After several minutes I got control of myself and wiped my face on the sleeve of my shirt. I had to be strong to do what needed to be done. I needed to be strong to help Sam.

I drove even more slowly now; I didn't want Sam to see I had been crying.

When I arrived at Sarah's I sat in the car for a few minutes then got out and took the groceries out of the trunk.

I walked right inside and set the bags down on the island in the kitchen.

"Sarah?" I called.

"Sam?" I looked around but didn't immediately see my brother or Sarah.

Panic made my chest tight and I called out their names again.

"In here Dean!" Sarah's voice called from the living room.

Sam and Sarah were sitting on the couch with a chess board between them. I couldn't help but smile. I had never been a fan of chess; I couldn't play to save my life actually, even though Sam had tried to teach me but now it was nice that Sam had someone who liked the game as much as he did.

I walked into the living room, smiling, trying to mask my emotions. I had just sat down when my cell phone went off.

I stood and moved into the kitchen. Sam looked after me with a questioning expression and Sarah looked at my brother.

I sat up on the island beside the groceries and opened my phone.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Dean?" It was Ben. His voice cracked, as though he was trying not to cry.

"What's wrong?" I asked. I was immediately on Red Alert.

"It's Mom, she's in the hospital. She's really sick," Ben said.

"Okay Ben, where are you now?" I asked. I jumped off the island and strode to the front hall.

"The hospital in Patterson," Ben hiccupped.

"Okay, I'm coming right now. Just stay there, I'll get there as soon as possible," I said and closed the phone and pulled on my boots.

Shit! I thought. All I could think about was Lisa and the baby. Sam had completely taken second-place on my priority list now. I needed to get to Indiana right now.

"Where are you going?" Sam and Sarah had come into the front hall.

"I have to go to Patterson. Lisa's in the hospital," I said, distracted.

I didn't even think about Sam. I was leaving him with Sarah and I didn't know when I would be back.

They stepped outside and said goodbye and good luck as I drove away.

I didn't say anything to Dean when he left. Perhaps I should have. But he had looked so worried about Lisa and the baby that I couldn't speak. I knew Dean had spent the eighteen months that I had been away making something for himself- Lisa's revelation of a child was proof of that and I didn't want to intrude. Actually, I felt as though I was a stranger who had stumbled into their lives.

The rest of the day was awkward with just Sarah and me. I was worried about Lisa, even though she obviously didn't like me that much.

Sarah and I played chess for most of the afternoon. I was rusty and most often lost but I didn't care, it was nice just to do something normal, like playing a board game.

Sarah wanted to know what had happened to me. I could see the question on her face but she was prudent enough not to ask, at least not yet.

I wanted to tell her, I wanted to be able to confide in someone other than Dean but I was afraid of what she'd say. I knew I couldn't tell her everything. I had not even told Dean everything- some of it was just too painful to relate into words, other memories I refused to acknowledge. It was like they were locked in a safe that I had shoved to the darkest, most disused part of my mind, never to be opened.

In the evening I helped Sarah prepare dinner. She turned the radio on and we quietly listened to some country station while we worked.

It felt odd when we sat down to eat at the island. Like I was out of place in such a domestic setting, like I didn't belong there.

Sarah made it less uncomfortable though. I don't know how to explain it but she made me calmer, less tense than I had been in days. I guess it was Sarah's unassuming way, she never judged, never pressured; she was calm and in turn it made me calm as well.

The silences with Sarah were different than they had been with Dean. It didn't feel like we needed to speak, we could just be comfortable in each other's company.

Later, when the sky had turned dark and the lights were turned on Sarah and I sat on the couch and watched some television show. I think it was some medical soap opera show. I didn't pay a close attention to what was going on. The volume wasn't loud but just the noise was making me nervous for some reason. I noticed after Dean and I had begun our road trip that sometimes noises, like a radio or TV agitated me…but so did silences…I couldn't win either way sometimes. It must be another symptom of the PTSD or maybe a side effect of one of the medications I was taking.

After the soap opera was finished Sarah and I went to bed. It felt weird to have a room to myself. I was so used to having my brother sleeping only a few feet away that I found the quiet unnerving. I lay awake for a long time. I watched green numbers on the digital alarm clock change. Around four o'clock I fell into a troubled sleep. I knew I had nightmares but when I woke later that morning I couldn't recall a single one- usually I could remember every detail of every dream.

Just as I left the bathroom after taking a shower around eight thirty Dean called. He was just leaving Akron, Ohio.

"How'd your night alone with Sarah go?" Dean asked.

"Good," I said. I didn't elaborate, Dean was clearly distracted.

After a couple of minutes of Dean's questions and my monosyllabic answers Dean finally ended the conversation.

"Just call if anything comes up- you know what I mean," Dean said.

"Of course," I said. Not likely, I thought. I wasn't going to call Dean and have him run back here if anything big or small happened.

I met Sarah downstairs. She was wearing grey jogging pants and an old black sweater. Her hair was in a ponytail like yesterday.

"Want to take a walk?" Sarah offered.

"Sure," I said and we went to the front hall and slipped our shoes on.

It was a cool morning for August. It was very quiet outside except for the sounds of birds and insects. Sarah walked beside me, close but not touching.

Sarah spoke about her neighbours as we passed their houses. Most of them were owned by old, retired couples. One house though, a beige sandstone giant was home to Percy Upton, the son of a wealthy banker, and admirer of Sarah.

Sarah thought it was funny that Percy had a crush on her, he was a five years younger than her but still thought he had a chance.

"Percy thinks all of Daddy's money can buy me," Sarah said with a not unkind laugh.

"I'm nice to him, I don't snub him but he just doesn't take a hint," Sarah continued.

I was surprised that she kind of liked the guy. She could have been a complete bitch but she wasn't, I thought that was a good quality.

"He always comes running out if he sees me taking a walk," Sarah said just as we came upon the house.

As though an invisible signal had gone off the whitewashed door of the sandstone house swung open and out came a young man with platinum blonde hair. He jogged down the long driveway wearing an expensive looking track suit and shoes.

He had a plump, soft face and large light blue eyes.

"I'm glad I caught you Sarah, I was hoping-" Percy began but stopped when he saw me.

I didn't care for the nasal pitch of his voice. He put his hands on his hips and jerked his chin in my direction.

"Who's that?" Percy demanded.

"This is Sam," Sarah said.

I could see Percy appraising me. He looked over my well-worn sneakers, my blue jeans and green long-sleeved shirt. Percy looked right at my face, not bothering to hide a smug smile when he saw that I looked ill.

"Where'd you find him Sarah? At a Soup Kitchen?" Percy snickered.

I opened my mouth.

"Is he mute too?" Percy wondered.

I wanted to punch Upton's stupid face.

I stepped forward but Sarah grabbed my arm. I shuddered slightly at her touch. After coming back from Hell I didn't like people touching me or coming too close to me or being in large crowds of people… but I'm sure you already know about that.

"Aw, isn't that adorable…he needs a woman to protect him," Percy said mockingly.

"Sam, don't," Sarah said. I turned to look at her and saw that she wasn't holding me back for Upton's sake.

Sarah did not release my arm but began to walk past Percy and his big house. Clearly his father was compensating for something.

Percy continued to jeer at us as we walked down the street. I really wanted to pummel that little snot but didn't want to make a bad impression in front of Sarah.

"You're nice to that guy?" I asked when we were far enough away.

"He's normally really sickly sweet," Sarah said without looking at me.

"I'm sorry about that," Sarah continued.

"Don't apologize for that little bastard," I said.

The walk back to the house was much quieter. Sarah eventually let go of my arm; I think she had forgotten she still had her hand wrapped around my bicep.

When we got back to the house we had a simple breakfast of Corn Flakes, I didn't mind though- it was a nice change from Dean's odd breakfast choices.

Two more days went by and Dean had only called that one time on the first day. I hesitated to call Dean myself. I didn't want to interrupt him.

Sarah and I slowly got closer. We began taking walks every morning, despite Percy Upton's snide remarks and played chess whenever the mood struck us.

There was that distance between us though. Like a dark cloud, the untold story of my time in Hell loomed over us.

On the third day I woke and decided I would, could tell Sarah about what had happened. I really liked Sarah, considered her a friend and felt she needed to know my past in order to completely know me. I knew that Sarah and I barely knew each other but I couldn't hold my story in any longer, it seemed as if it was a living thing, fighting and clawing away inside as it attempted to escape me.

Sarah was sitting on the couch when I came downstairs; she had a cup of tea in her hands.

"Sarah, I think you need to know… what happened," I said as I entered the living room.

She turned to me. She could see on my face what I was going to say and so she did not speak.

I sat down in one of the chairs and did not talk for a long while. I was preparing myself.

Finally, after what seemed like hours I felt sure enough to tell my story. When I finished speaking I saw tears of sympathy running down Sarah's face. Her tea had gone cold, completely forgotten.

It was almost mid-afternoon by the time I finished speaking. I felt emotionally drained. This was only the second time I had told anyone about what had happened while I was in Hell.

"I'm so sorry Sam," Sarah whispered from the couch.

I just nodded. Somehow I felt like I had been wrong to tell her all that I had, I felt dirty and perverse. I wished I could take my words back but it was too late now.

Sarah moved from the couch and I grew tense, fearing that she was going to hug me and say something sappy, like 'it's going to be okay.'

Instead Sarah set her cup aside and took one of my hands in both of hers and held my hand for a moment.

"Thank you for telling me Sam," Sarah said, "it must have been difficult for you."

I didn't move. Sarah's hands were very warm.

After a moment Sarah let my hand go and gathered up her mug and went into the kitchen.

For a while Sarah busied herself in the kitchen and since I didn't really know what to do, remained where I was. I went over my story in my head, I analyzed the things I had said, the things I hadn't. I felt that I should have left it alone. It felt like I had just infected Sarah with this information, like it was a poison or venom. I worried if I should have told even Dean, if I should just have left all the memories to fester inside instead of spreading them around. I was always so unsure of myself since I had come back.

While Sarah was in the kitchen I went upstairs and tried to take a nap, unsuccessfully of course but still…

I got fed up with staring at the ceiling and made my way downstairs.

Sarah was in the living room watching TV. She smiled when I walked in.

I couldn't help but smile too. Somehow I felt better than I had in a long time.

I think I was just happy to be with Sarah. We had a simple lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. To pass the afternoon Sarah and I played game after game of chess. She nearly always beat me too.

"Now you're just letting me win," Sarah laughed after my sixth loss.

When chess got boring Sarah and I watched one of those made-for-TV movies, some sappy Hallmark one where some guy loses his memory and all he has to remember his true love is a single name written on a scrap of paper. Anyway, after searching high and low for this girl he finally finds her and they live happily ever after. I found it corny but Sarah thought it was romantic.

That night, after staying up to watch the late-night horror flick on TV Sarah and I ended up falling asleep on the couch.

I woke with a start, a nightmare still fresh in my mind to find Sarah curled into a ball with her head resting on my shoulder.

Very slowly, so as not to wake Sarah, I slid off the couch and stood. I looked at the TV: that Johnny Depp movie, the Ninth Gate, was on. I picked up the remote and turned the television off.

I went into the front hall and slipped on my shoes. I wanted to take a walk even though it was practically the middle of the night.

I stepped out into the cool night air and walked down the street. All I could hear was the sound of night insects.

I walked to the end of the street and then turned the corner. I felt a warm gust of wind from behind and turned to see Abdiel. The British angel looked exactly the same as when I had last seen him.

"Nice night for a stroll, eh?" Abdiel said and began walking beside me.

"Where have you been?" I asked. I knew Dean had gotten pissed at Cas and then told Abdiel to leave but I didn't think that the angel was one to just vanish.

"In Heaven, helping Castiel to sway the other angels to our side. I'll tell you, Cas is not good with diplomacy. The other angels though, you'd think we were asking them to become demons, the way they act. It's not their fault though, a lot of 'em look up to Raphael 'cause he's an archangel and a hero from the war and all that. They wouldn't even listen to Cas if I wasn't there with him," Abdiel said and fished a cigarette from the pack in his pocket.

"All they want is someone to tell 'em what to do. They're so used to taking orders that they'll obey anyone with authority, like Raphael, even though he's a rotter," Abdiel said and sighed to himself.

I just nodded.

"You alright? You're a little peaky," Abdiel asked as he lit his smoke.

I shrugged, "I guess."

"Where's Dean?" Abdiel seemed only now to notice my brother was not in my company.

"Indiana. He's looking after his friend," I said.

"He left you here by yourself?" Abdiel asked and blew a plume of white smoke out.

"I'm staying with a friend," I said.

"Good, I'd love to meet him," Abdiel said.

"Actually, he's a she," I couldn't help but smile.

Abdiel looked at me and gave a sly wink. I laughed.

After a half an hour of walking in companionable silence we turned back toward Trafalgar Court. Abdiel and I walked inside and I went into the living room, Sarah was still sleeping.

I reached down and touched her shoulder, "Sarah."

"Sam?" Sarah asked sleepily.

Abdiel came into the living room and stood beside me.

Sarah opened her eyes and looked up and saw me and smiled. Then she saw Abdiel and jumped up.

"It's okay, he's a friend. He's an angel," I said.

"An angel?" Sarah asked.

Sarah sat up and looked at me like I was on LSD or something.

"He's in a vessel," I said. I had told her about vessels to explain how I ended up in Hell in the first place.

"Oh," Sarah asked. Yeah, it was kind of awkward to think about vessels at first but she'd get used to it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sarah," Abdiel gave a little bow.

"Well, now that I'm awake, do you want some coffee?" Sarah asked me and looked askance at Abdiel.

"None for me," Abdiel said but followed us to the kitchen anyway.

Sarah and I sat at the island, sipping coffee while Abdiel stood nearby.

I don't think the angel knew what to say, especially with Sarah present so it was kind of awkward.

When morning dawned the three of us took a walk.

Just as expected, Percy Upton came jogging out of his house wearing a lime green track suit. When Percy saw Abdiel with us, his eyes bugged out of his head. I barely managed to keep a straight face.

"What? Who's he?" Percy stammered.

Abdiel grinned and looped one of Sarah's arms through his.

"He's a friend," Sarah said mysteriously.

Percy gaped. He just couldn't figure out how Sarah was attracting us.

When we got to the street corner Sarah extracted her arm from Abdiel's and burst into laughter.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Sarah asked as she continued to giggle.

"What a prat," Abdiel said and lit a cigarette.

After that, Sarah was more at ease with the angel's presence. I wondered what Dean would say when he came back and saw Abdiel hanging out with us.

It wasn't like I had forgotten about Sam. Even as I sat in the hospital waiting room with Ben I thought about my brother. I counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours as they ticked by. I knew that slowly it was coming closer to the time when Sam would die.

Lisa had been at work when she collapsed and a co-worker had phoned an ambulance.

When I saw Lisa she looked a little pale but other than that she was her usual stubborn self.

"I can't just lie in bed for the next seven months!" Lisa complained.

"Don't worry, I'll get Stephanie or Teresa to come look after you," I had told her.

"And where will you be?" Lisa had demanded.

"I need to get back to Sam," I said.

Lisa pursed her lips and glared at me.

Don't worry Lisa, soon Sam won't be around. He'll be dead and you'll have me all to yourself, I thought bitterly.

"I don't understand why Dean," Lisa said.

I sighed and told her all she needed to worry about was herself and the baby.

"This didn't happen with Ben," Lisa said in a confused sort of voice.

"The doctor said it happens sometimes," I said.

Ben was much relieved to have me there. He just didn't know what to do. I tried to get him to stay at home but he insisted on coming to the hospital with me every time. I tried to be adult and tell him that he should stay at Matty's house but Ben refused; sometimes the kid was just as stubborn as his mother.

In the evening, when I had taken Ben home and the kid was asleep I sat at the kitchen table and could only think about the deadline, the deadline. It was only weeks away and Sam was not ready, hell, I wasn't ready. I was not prepared to lose Sam again. I wanted to save him but there was nothing I could do, it was out of my hands.

I began to breathe very fast, the house seemed almost stiflingly hot. I walked to the front hallway and pulled on my boots and stepped outside.

I walked to the Impala and leaned against its cool metal side. I opened the driver's side door and slid into the car. I started the engine and drove, just drove with no real destination in mind.

I went down the narrow road that wound through the forest just on the edge of Cicero. I parked the Impala and stepped out. I didn't bother to lock up and walked into the woods.

It had rained earlier in the day and the underbrush was wet with drops of moisture, the ground soggy and muddy. I don't know how far I walked, a mile or two only. I felt like I needed to be out here, away from other people or man-made buildings or cars, etc. Away from the monuments of human civilization to do something I rarely did: speak to God.

I saw a fallen tree and sat down on its moss-covered truck, ignoring the fact that the seat of my pants became damp. I sighed and looked around.

"I'm really scared," I whispered. I could hear the chirping of birds but that was the only sound.

"I need to know: why are you silent? Do you care about us or are the angels right and you could give a fuck about us?" I asked.

"All I want are answers, that's it," I said and rubbed my face with a hand.

"How can you know what's happening and do nothing about it? How can it be that you know Raphael is trying to take over your job and you haven't shown him who's boss? How can you see what happening to Sam and not intervene? You can stop Raphael from freeing Lucifer and save Sam from having to kill himself but you don't do anything," I asked the forest around me.

I stood and paced than sat back down.

"Is this all a part of the Great Scheme of Things? Was this supposed to happen all along? Was Sam meant to end up like this, Lucifer's prisoner? Is it in your plan for Sam to kill the Devil with his own Blade? Or is this our punishment for diverging from the path, for refusing to say 'yes' to Michael and Lucifer so those sons of bitches could have their death-match?" I was angry now. I couldn't believe that God would want this to happen to Sam.

"Why us? Why does this have to be our burden to carry? Who decided that Sam and I would have to do this?" I stood and walked around the area, thinking.

"I just…I just don't know anything about anything anymore. I just want someone to explain it to me," I said aloud.

"I'm not in control and that scares me," I whispered.

"Why does Sam have to die? Can't you save him? Give him a chance to have a normal life?" I wondered.

"Please, don't let Sammy die…not for me…but for him. All his life he's been hunting monsters and he's never had the opportunity for an average American Dream existence. If anyone deserves a second chance it's Sam. So I am asking you, begging you…don't take my brother away…please…." I asked. I struggled to retain my composure. Of course I received no answer to any of my questions and took that as a bad sign.

I remained where I was for a good while, asking and begging God to let Sam get through this. When I finally stood I felt sick to my stomach and slowly made my way back to the Impala, with my ass wet and my jeans stiff with mud nearly up to my knees.

I slid into the driver's seat of the car and turned on the radio to cut the silence. The Motorhead song 'God Was Never On Your Side' blared out of the speakers and I grimaced with irony before I changed the station.

I drove back to Lisa's house and was relieved Ben was still asleep. I woke the kid up and made him pancakes for breakfast.

We ate in silence for a few minutes and then Ben spoke up.

"Dean? Is Sam coming back?" Ben asked.

"No Ben," I said.

"Oh," Ben looked down at his food.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, I kind of feel bad for being rude before. I know he helped save me from that monster before but when he came back he…scared me a little…and….well, I wanted to apologize," Ben said, looking ashamed.

"I'm sure he knows you didn't mean it Ben," I said quietly.

Ben said nothing for the rest of the time until breakfast was finished.

"Can I come to the hospital with you to pick Mom up?" Ben asked.

"Sure," I said and we got into the Impala.

I had spoken the night before to the next door neighbor, Clara, and she said she's come in and look after Lisa and Ben.

We listened to Led Zeppelin on the way to the hospital and waited at the curb for an orderly to bring Lisa out in a wheelchair. I got out and helped Lisa into the recently vacated passenger seat; Ben moved obligingly to the back.

As we drove home I told Lisa that Clara would take care of all the household chores and such, that she would make sure Ben was looked after, etc.

"All you have to focus on is resting," I said.

"So you can go off with your brother?" Lisa said bitterly.

What had gotten into Lisa lately?

"I will be gone for only three weeks at the most, Lis," I said, a lump in my throat as I spoke.

I wondered what Lisa would say if I told her that soon Sam was going to commit suicide.

Once I had Lisa settled comfortably in bed and Ben was outside with Matty, I got back into the car and started out for Albany. I couldn't help but think that this would be the last time I would see my brother.


	9. The Razor's Edge

Dean arrived in Albany a day after Abdiel had returned to Heaven. As soon as my brother walked inside I saw none of his usual cocky confidence, he looked haggard and sad.

I told Dean about the angel but he just shrugged.

Sarah, Dean and I were sitting at the kitchen island, drinking coffee when Dean spoke up.

"Sam…there's something I have to tell you," Dean had been studying my face at odd intervals as though trying to commit my features to memory.

Sarah was sitting beside me and she reached out and gripped my hand in hers.

"It's about Lucifer…you have to let him possess you and….stab yourself with his Seraph Blade…" Dean whispered.

My heart sank. I knew that Lucifer wouldn't be dumb enough to let me attack him like I was- he'd kill me.

I nodded. Sarah gave my hand what was meant to be a comforting squeeze.

"Isn't there any other way?" Sarah asked, tears in her eyes.

Dean shook his head.

I suddenly felt anger well up inside me. This wasn't fair! Dean was allowed to go on with his life and mine was just coming to an end. I wanted to scream with the injustice of it all.

Instead I grabbed my coffee mug and threw it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand shards, coffee splashing the cupboards and floor.

I immediately regretted my action.

"I'm sorry Sarah," I apologized and crouched down to pick up the mug pieces.

Sarah said nothing but grabbed the dish cloth and began wiping up the coffee.

"It's okay Sam…don't worry about it," Sarah mumbled.

I tipped the pieces of the mug into the garbage. I came back and began gathering the smaller pieces. Sarah worked with her head down. Suddenly she sat down and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. I remained crouched where I was, holding the ceramic pieces in one hand.

Dean stood up and walked out of the kitchen. I guess he couldn't bear to be in same room with Sarah just then.

I took hold of Sarah's hand and just held it while she sobbed. I didn't really know what else to do.

For the rest of the day, the three of us walked around the house in a numb daze. We didn't speak to each other. We didn't turn on the TV or radio. It was like we were waiting for the end.

Just the thought of saying 'yes' to Lucifer again caused my heart to pound in my chest and a cold sliver of fear to freeze my stomach.

Sarah moved from room to room, tidying things that didn't need it.

Dean sat in the living room with some art magazine open on his lap. He wasn't even looking at it but was pretending to anyway.

"Maybe you should call Cas," I said as Sarah and I made our way into the living room.

Dean shook his head, "not yet."

None of us were hungry so we skipped lunch and dinner. Sarah and I tried to play chess but we were both distracted and we didn't get very far. Dean paced around a lot.

Abdiel showed up late in the evening.

"Wot's with all the long faces?" Abdiel asked as he gazed at us.

Dean told the angel what I would have to do to kill Lucifer.

Abdiel looked shocked for a moment and then perched on the arm of the couch.

"There's got to be another way," Abdiel said.

Dean shook his head, "there is no other way. Trust me."

Abdiel sat, for a long time lost in thought, trying to find a loophole or something.

It grew darker as the night grew later. Abdiel had long since given up trying to find a way out and instead gave me his word that he would be with me until the end.

It was only nine o'clock when Sarah stood up.

"Sam, come with me. I don't want to be alone tonight," Sarah pleaded and I obliged.

We lay on Sarah's bed, back to back. She apologized and said she just wanted someone with her.

Sarah fell asleep almost immediately. I lay awake, concentrating on Sarah's warm back against mine. I was afraid to close my eyes.

I must have drifted off regardless of my attempt to remain awake because later I jerked into a sitting position and saw that the alarm clock read 5:49. I was drenched in cold sweat, I was shaking. It was a nightmare, just a nightmare…

I looked over at Sarah. She was still on her side, her black hair spread out like a dark halo around her head. Her face was peaceful as she dreamed. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment or two and then stood and made my way to the guest room.

Without turning on any lights, I took the old Nietzsche textbook from my duffel bag and just stood holding it. I had thought about reading but all at once it seemed unimportant if I finished the book or not. I just stood still, feeling the weight of the text in my hand. I don't know why. I guess I wanted to hold on to something solid.

After a while I set the book on the floor and went back to Sarah's room and lay back down beside her. In her sleep, Sarah rolled over so we were facing each other.

I felt my eyes grow heavy with sleep and soon I was drifting off again.

Sarah and I grew closer to each other in the last few weeks. We both knew that it was too little too late but we didn't care. Sarah and I were just content to be in one another's company.

There were a lot of things I wanted to say to Dean, that I needed to say but I just couldn't manage to put into words.

Dean and I talked about the plan: how he would hold onto the Seraph Blade until I had control and was able to kill Lucifer.

"What if I can't get control? Last time I didn't have control for a while and when I did it was pretty touch-and-go," I asked.

Sarah, Dean and I were sitting at the island in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and eating store-bought oatmeal cookies.

Dean looked me right in the face, "then Cas and I will find a way to kill Lucifer."

I nodded. That really meant that Dean had no idea what to do if I couldn't gain control.

"I want to come with you," Sarah spoke up.

"No," Dean and I said at the same time.

"I don't know what's going to happen and I would never forgive myself if I hurt you," I said.

"I'm sorry Sarah but I need to keep an eye on Sam. I can't be making sure you're safe all the time," Dean said.

"I want to help though," Sarah persisted.

"There is nothing you can do," I said.

"This isn't like before, you will be in very real danger if you come with us," I said, seriously.

"The best thing you can do is to stay here. I will call you after it's done," Dean said.

Sarah glared at me for a moment and then her expression turned sad.

I didn't want her to see me like that. I didn't want to kill her if I couldn't get control; I was already worried that Dean and Abdiel and Cas would be in danger if that happened.

It was one week until the deadline when one morning Sarah had a strange request.

We were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee. It was early morning and the day was dark and rainy.

"Sam, will you do something for me? If I cannot help at least do me one favour," Sarah said.

I looked over at her. She had a guarded expression. Dean was upstairs taking a shower and Abdiel had gone to check on things in Heaven so we were alone.

"Anything," I said.

"Marry me," Sarah said. Her face was serious.

I opened my mouth but couldn't think of what to say. In a matter of days I was going to have to kill myself in order to destroy the Devil and she was asking me to marry her?

"Are you proposing to me?" I asked. Maybe I had heard it wrong.

Sarah set her cup aside, got off the couch and went down on one knee if front of me.

"Sam Winchester, will you marry me?" Sarah asked. A ghost of a smile played on her lips.

I was dumbfounded. Sarah wanted me to marry her but if she did in a short time she would be a widow. I didn't understand her motivation.

"I…I don't know," I stammered.

"Better late than never?" Sarah said, still resting on her knee.

"I…can't," I whispered. I really liked Sarah, maybe I was starting to love her but I could not do as she asked. She was making a rash, emotionally charged decision and I couldn't let her.

Sarah stood; tears welled up in her eyes.

"I understand," Sarah said and walked into the kitchen.

I followed her and sat down on one of the bar stools. I wanted to explain it to her, how I didn't want to leave her like that. We really didn't even know each other all that well. I mean, sure she was a great friend and I cared about her but I didn't think we should make such a commitment. I would be gone soon and if we did marry she would be a widow.

When Dean came downstairs Sarah opened up a bottle of Glenfiddich and the three of us finished the bottle between us.

"My father was saving this," Sarah said, indicating the scotch whiskey, "but I guess now is as good a time as any to drink it.

As the days began passing I grew more and more anxious. It felt as if I stood on the brink of a giant chasm and instead of stepping back from the edge, I was being told I had to take a leap into it.

When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back into you; I thought more often than once.

Abdiel stayed with us during the last few days. He tried to be supportive but he was also worried.

Heaven was gearing up for war and something needed to be done soon to stop it.

Days passed and nothing happened. I didn't relax though.

"Maybe Raphael isn't as close as we thought," Abdiel said.

Weeks passed and there was still no sign of Lucifer being loosed upon the world. August slipped into September and we all began to calm down.

"Are you sure your sources are right Dean?" I asked him.

Dean shrugged, "well it isn't like I'm getting it from the horse's mouth so it's hard to judge."

I never asked Dean who is sources were, I didn't want to know. Dean began to have long, heated cell phone arguments with Lisa. He refused to return to Cicero until he knew what was going on with Lucifer but of course he didn't tell Lisa that.

I briefly wondered if Raphael had given up trying to free Lucifer and decided just to run the show on his own.

"I don't think we're that lucky, mate," Abdiel said.

A couple of times I came with Sarah to her art auctions. They were held in her father's old auction house. There were actually a surprising number of people who turned out to buy the antiques.

"It's because most of them knew my father," Sarah said modestly.

Sarah would wear an elegant red or black dress for the occasion. I still had the suit I used whenever Dean and I pretended to be FBI agents and I would wear that. Sarah was the center of attention, I stood in the background, going mostly unnoticed which was fine with me. I wouldn't know what to say to any of these snobby rich people anyway.

I began to be able to control my sense of panic when I was in big crowds and that helped out a lot. I was still nervous, but I wouldn't have a panic attack at least.

October came sunny and mild. It was odd to think that only a few months ago I was prepared to die, to commit suicide. I knew that I had not dodged the bullet though and that sometime I would have to face Lucifer, but I kept that knowledge at the back of my mind and was determined to enjoy the life I had.

Dean finally returned to Cicero, making me promise to call him if anything happened.

Sarah and I still took things slowly; the most intimate we got was a kiss or simply sleeping in the same bed together. Sarah didn't seem to mind though and I was grateful that she didn't say anything.

During September, my nightmares seemed to grow vaguer, less memorable but once October arrived they came back with a vengeance.

Often Sarah would end up shaking me awake in the middle of the night. I was embarrassed. I knew that I talked in my sleep but Sarah did not make a big deal about it.

I met a lot of Sarah's friends and they were nice enough people. Most of them came from rich backgrounds and had nothing in common with me. It wasn't like I was totally ignorant of their social standing; it was just that I really did not have any interest in golf or country clubs or Wall Street.

Some of Sarah's friends she had met in college and were just average, middle-class people. It felt a little odd to be meeting all of Sarah's friends when I had lost contact with almost all of my college friends and the only other people I was close to, besides Dean, were Cas and Abdiel and Bobby. I promised Sarah that we'd go to Sioux Falls some time and she'd get to meet the gruff, old hunter but that didn't seem likely.

I took the pills religiously but as October came closer to November they didn't seem to help.

I began to grow very nervous. I would get anxious about the noise of the TV or radio, or the silences in the big house if I was alone. Loud or sudden noises startled me and set me on edge. I began to get a little paranoid:

Sarah said she would be half an hour and it was now an hour and forty minutes, what was she doing?

Why had Dean not called today? He said he would call at noon and it was almost three in the afternoon?

Dark, disturbing thoughts crept into my mind that no amount of lithium pills could erase.

Sarah noticed the changes in my behavior and worried, I could see it on her face.

She called Dean and he arrived in Albany within eighteen hours.

Dean walked right into the living room; I was sitting on one of the chairs with my feet under myself.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Dean crouched down by the chair with a concerned look on his face.

"Tired," I answered. I had not slept at all the night before. Every time I tried to sleep I would wake up moments later from nightmares.

"You're not sleeping?" Dean asked.

I shook my head.

"What about sleeping pills?" Dean looked worriedly at Sarah who was standing in front of the couch with her arms folded over her chest.

"Nothing is helping," I answered.

I had started going into the guest bedroom again in the evenings so I wouldn't wake Sarah up in the middle of the night.

Dean stood up and sighed. His expression told me that he had no idea what to do.

Sarah walked over and stood beside me.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Sarah asked Dean.

"I can't work miracles!" Dean said, exasperated.

"But…" Sarah began and grabbed my hand in hers as though that would help somehow.

I knew I needed sleep, needed to keep my mind sharp to fight Lucifer but actually falling asleep and staying that way were easier said than done.

"Maybe Abdiel can do something," Dean suggested.

"No way Dean. I don't want to be knocked out by an angel every time I need a snooze," I protested.

"Okay," Dean said and ran a hand over his face.

There was nothing to be done. There was no way to stop the nightmares; I'd just have to live with it until…

Sarah made pasta for dinner that evening but none of us ate with any conviction.

Sarah looked like she was holding back the urge to cry and Dean just looked as concerned as I had ever seen him.

This is going to sound awful, I know, but I hated this waiting. It was torture just to go through the motions of everyday when the end was looming so close. I was not afraid of dying, I wasn't even afraid of Hell if that was where I ended up; I was afraid of losing, I feared not being able to get control to do what needed to be done.

The three of us cleaned up after dinner like automatons; Dean was deep in thought, Sarah had a sorrowful look on her face and I just tried to keep my mind blank.

We moved into the living room after dinner and Sarah turned on the televisions, with the sound on mute.

Sarah was sitting on the couch beside me, now she turned to me and spoke.

"It's not fair," Sarah spoke as if she had been holding it in for a long time.

"I know it's not fair but that is the way it's going to go," I said.

"But why should it be you? From what you've told me you have given more than enough," Sarah said, anger in her voice.

I shook my head, "I guess it wasn't enough for them."

"Can't someone else do it? Why do you have to die?" Sarah asked.

"I'm the only person who can do it Sarah. No one else can kill the Devil and if I have to die doing so I've come to terms with it," I answered.

Dean looked up at me from his position on one of the chairs.

Sarah looked at me oddly for a moment.

"Of course I don't want to die but if that is what has to happen to protect you then I can live with that decision," I told her.

"I don't like this: It sounds like you're giving up," Dean said from his seat

I turned to look at my brother.

"What else am I supposed to do Dean? Hold on to the impossible idea that Raphael will get bored and leave Lucifer in his Cage? Or that we'll find another way to kill the Devil before he breaks out?" I paused. Dean had a defiant look on his face. What did Dean want me to do? What did he want me to say?

"I am in pain Dean and it's not going away until I stop it," I said, my voice rising in defiance.

Dean lowered his gaze.

"I'm sorry Sam, sometimes I forget what this is like for you," my brother spoke without looking at me.

Sarah placed one hand gently on my shoulder. I sighed. I knew it was difficult for Dean to understand what this meant for me, and I didn't blame him for it, but every time he was faced with my reality he seemed chastised, like I was dropping harsh reality on top of his hopes that we'd get through this in one piece.

As the last three weeks of October loomed closer and closer the tension in the house grew.

I was getting less and less sleep until I simply collapsed from exhaustion. I had no appetite whatsoever and I barely ate.

I retreated into myself. I rarely spoke.

Dean called Abdiel and the angel appeared in record time.

Abdiel was at a loss as what to do for me. There was nothing that could be done, the angel said.

"Just make him as comfortable as possible I guess," Abdiel said as though I was dying or terminally ill.

Sarah went to New York City and Buffalo for some art and antique shows but she did so reluctantly.

Dean was always at my side. He would talk about Ben and Lisa and the baby even though I did not comment.

"Lisa and I were thinking of names," Dean said, speaking of a rare conversation with Lisa, instead of an argument.

"We were thinking of Clarice if it is a girl and…Sam if it's a boy," Dean said.

I looked at him: was he asking permission?

"Ben likes the idea of naming the baby after you if it's a boy," Dean smiled wanly.

"Ben's really hoping for a little brother," Dean continued.

I could see by the expression on Dean's face that he was hoping for a son.

I wondered how Dean had convinced Lisa to name the baby after me since lately she had taken such an aversion to me.

I smiled: yes. Dean could use my name.

On the eighteenth Percy invited Sarah to a Halloween party. Sarah did not want to go; she didn't want to leave me when things seemed to be coming to a close.

"You deserve a break," Abdiel said, "you too Dean. Go with Sarah and I'll stay with Sam."

After a long discussion Sarah and Dean finally agreed to go. Once the night of the party rolled around (it was that Friday) both Sarah and Dean tried to back out.

Abdiel promised to call them right away if anything happened.

"You're just down the street for goodness' sake!" Abdiel said as he saw Dean and Sarah out.

Dean and Sarah left. Percy was hosting some fancy party so Dean was wearing a black suit, dress shoes and dark blue tie I had seen him in when pretending to be FBI. Sarah wore an elegant emerald evening dress and matching high heeled shoes.

Abdiel walked into the living room where I had made a sort of nest on the couch with blankets and pillows.

"They need a night where they don't have to be thinking about this," Abdiel said and perched, birdlike on the arm of one of the chairs.

"Yeah," I said.

The angel looked up at me, mildly surprised that I had spoken.

"I'm worried about Sarah, I don't know how she'll take it after I'm gone," I continued.

Abdiel nodded. Dean would get over my death, of course he'd grieve but he'd be okay in the end. Sarah, on the other hand had no one to lean on. Dean would go back to Cicero and Sarah would be here, in her big house all alone.

"Sarah's a tough one Sam, she'll be alright," Abdiel said.

I didn't continue so the angel talked about how things were going in Heaven.

Abdiel and Cas were recruiting some angels to their side, but not enough, not nearly enough.

Even after I killed Lucifer (I was trying to look on the positive side) they would still have to deal with Raphael.

After a while Abdiel also stopped talking and sat deep in thought.

In the silence I drifted into a fitful slumber…

… Darkness. There was no light. I could not see anything in front of me. It was very cold, I shivered. I suddenly felt Lucifer's presence and fear gripped me in its clutches.

"What do you want?" I asked.

Lucifer chuckled.

I turned around and around but I could not tell where the Devil was.

"What's so funny?" I wanted to know.

"You believe that you can beat me," Lucifer hissed in the darkness.

"I will beat you," I said.

"I think not, Sam. You are weakening…You'll see that hope is futile, that I will win," Lucifer said.

I shook with cold.

"You do not stand a chance against me Sam Winchester and when I do win you will pay dearly," Lucifer said, making it sound like a promise.

I shook my head.

"I will possess you and you'll be helpless to stop me," Lucifer's presence came closer. It grew so cold my breath caught in my chest.

"I will show you the meaning of merciless," Lucifer whispered.

My fragile resolve crumbled, "please don't hurt me."

Lucifer laughed.

"I will kill your loved ones while you watch. I will kill Dean and Robert Singer…and Sarah… I will kill them slowly, painfully. They will die by your hands…" Lucifer said.

"Poor, sweet, Sarah Blake. She must really love you, too bad she will learn to fear you," Lucifer continued.

"I could tell you what I am going to do to her but it will be much more fun to show you," Lucifer said.

Flashes of visions filled the dark room, like a movie projector as a strobe light.

Scenes of Sarah. Sarah being tortured and terrified. Terrified of me.

Lucifer was pretending to be me. He acted like me; spoke like me, as he tortured Sarah. She knew it was the Devil, knew it wasn't really me doing all those horrible things to her.

Sarah cried and begged me to fight, to gain control but I could see she was terrified of me.

I was trapped. I wanted to stop her pain and fear but I couldn't get control. Couldn't get control.

The vision turned to show Sarah in what appeared to be a cell from an old jail. She was crouched against one wall, her clothes were filthy, and she was shaking with fear. She had a split lip and a trail of dried blood down her chin. She was pale and her sunken eyes looked like steel marbles.

I heard the cell door open and Sarah crouched even smaller, her eyes wide.

"No Sam," Sarah begged, "please fight him. You can win Sam, please. Don't let him hurt me."

Sarah raised her hands over her head as if to fend off an attack and began to cry.

I closed my eyes. My entire body trembled with sadness and anger. I felt warm tears coursing down my face.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked in a whisper.

"So you can stop it," Lucifer said.

I opened my eyes, "what?"

"It does not have to be like this Sam. You can save her. Sarah will not have to suffer me if you act now," Lucifer said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked with a little more strength.

"If you end her life now she will never know me," Lucifer said.

"I will never kill Sarah!" I shouted.

"Even to save her?" Lucifer asked.

He just wanted me to harm Sarah to punish me.

"If you think I am bluffing Sam, go ahead and wait, see what happens when I win and find Sarah," Lucifer said and the visions started up again.

I woke with the sounds of Sarah's screams and begging still ringing in my ears.

I said nothing to Abdiel. I would not hurt Sarah. Ever.

SPN

It was difficult for me to just stand by and watch Sam get worse and worse. I wanted to do something for him but there was nothing that could be done. I hated just waiting; we never just sat around and let someone else do the work for us. As Sam's condition deteriorated I prayed that he would have the strength for the final act. Even if it was predestined that Sam was to destroy the Devil, it was going to take all of my brother's willpower to do so.

I tried in vain to comfort Sarah, I knew she really cared for Sam and this was torture for her to know he was going to die. After her outburst that one evening Sarah didn't speak of what Sam was going to do. I constantly saw a look of angry determination on her face that I didn't understand. I knew that Sam and I should never have come to Albany; I should have taken Sam to Sioux Falls instead.

Would have, should have, could have…it was too late for those.

Sarah had told me all about this Percy Upton character as we walked down the street toward the monstrous sandstone house. I already disliked the guy. He was one of those people who are arrogant just because they have lots of money and look down on everyone else but in reality, if it wasn't for their wealth they would just be your average douchbags.

The mansion of a house was lit up like a spotlight when Sarah and I approached. Young men and women walked across the spacious lawn dressed in their best. As Sarah and I strolled up the cobbled walkway, she slipped her arm through mine. Just as we were about to enter the house Sarah balked.

"Maybe we should go back," Sarah half turned around.

"We need a night to relax Sarah," I said.

"Sam's not going to relax," Sarah looked at me. Anger in her grey eyes turning them to steel.

"No," I answered slowly, "but I know Sam and he wouldn't want us to worry about him 24/7. Sam would want us to have an evening away, to try and forget about what's happening if only for a few hours."

Sam had always been such a selfless person it never ceased to amaze me.

"This is hard on us too you know," I continued.

"I know, I just can't help but feel guilty. I feel like it's cruel that we should be having a good time while Sam's suffering," Sarah replied.

I sighed; I didn't know how to respond.

"Sam will be okay, Abdiel's with him," I said.

"No more thinking about Sam once we step inside," I said hypocritically. Thoughts of Sam would never be far from my mind tonight.

Sarah nodded and we stepped over the threshold.

I don't really remember the details of the house a whole lot; I wasn't paying attention to its furnishings. I do recall a lot of oak and chrome and glass and neutral colours but that's about it.

I do remember the look on Percy Upton's face when he saw Sarah with her arm through mine, looking like we were a couple.

It was amusing to watch Upton's mouth gape; his face turning from paper white to red with indignation.

Upton wore a rather ugly beige suit with a white dress shirt, dark brown dress shoes and a powder blue tie.

"Sarah, I thought you would be alone this evening," Upton said as he walked over to us.

Sarah kept her expression in check, "did I forget to tell you I was bringing a friend?"

Upton sniffed as he looked me up and down, "no matter, no matter."

The DJ started up a new song, some pop track I didn't know and Upton held a pale, slightly pudgy hand out to Sarah.

"Actually Percy, I'm with Dean tonight," Sarah said politely and guided me away, toward a buffet table lined with food and drink.

Sarah chuckled as she filled a plastic cup with punch and handed it to me. Sarah moved away to talk to some people she knew and I was left on my own. My stomach growled; worrying about Sam made me neglect to eat properly and I busied myself for a few minutes with eating.

As I munched away I thought of the conversation I had had with Lisa a few weeks ago. In a surprisingly good mood, Lisa had called and wanted to know if I had thought of any baby names.

Names for my unborn child, still months away, were the last things on my mind.

"Where did this come from?" I had asked Lisa. I was sitting in Sarah's backyard, enjoying the mild weather.

"Well, being confined to my bed gives me a lot of time to think," Lisa had chuckled.

"Why don't you tell me your suggestions first?" I offered. It would give me time to think of some names of my own.

For a girl Lisa wanted Rebecca, Kendra, Amy, or Clarice.

"I really like Clarice…it's Latin meaning clear, bright or famous," Lisa had told me.

"Uh huh," I had mumbled. Clarice, I guessed it was a pretty name.

If we had a boy, Lisa thought of Sean, Dylan, Matthew, or…

"…Michael," Lisa had said proudly.

"NO!" I said a little too forcefully.

"Why not? Michael's a good name, it's strong…" Lisa had protested.

There was no way I was naming any child of mine after that son of a bitch.

"It's so common though," I protested, "every other boy out there is called Michael."

"Oh, it's common," Lisa had said, slowly.

"How about Robert? Or Hunter," I had said. Hunter? I thought, why had I said that?

"I don't know," Lisa had said, "maybe we should ask Ben."

I agreed that it would be good to include Ben in this. Ben, when Lisa asked what he wanted to name his little brother or sister, took this very seriously and did not respond for a couple of days.

Lisa called again, this time she wasn't in such a good mood.

"Don't tell me Ben wants to name the baby Dweezil or JoJo or Lulu something like that," I had laughed.

"Ben wants to name his brother, Sam" Lisa had answered, her voice tight.

I blinked. Ben wanted to name the baby after Sam.

"Uh…" I didn't know how to answer.

"What have you been telling my son?" Lisa said as though accusing me.

I was getting really fed up with Lisa's attitude toward my brother.

"I didn't tell Ben anything! What does it matter anyway Lisa? Sam is not some felon, he's my brother and he is sick, that's it!" I snapped.

What the fuck was Lisa's problem?

I had not had to tell Ben anything actually, he was a perceptive kid. He wanted to know more about Sam and I gave him guarded answers, very guarded answers. The rest Ben seemed to figure out for himself.

Ben figured that Sam must be the way he was because he had been dead. Ben figured you couldn't be dead for so long and be 'normal' if you came back. Ben didn't know about the PTSD or anything but he did know that Sam was 'going to save the world' like he was some sort of superhero or something.

I didn't really want to tell Ben anything but the kid was very curious and wouldn't drop the topic of Sam.

"Are you getting your brother the help he needs?" Lisa had asked, not kindly.

"Yes, we're going to get Sam help," I said through clenched teeth.

Lisa obviously thought Sam was insane. I don't know why. I wished I could make Lisa understand what was happening to Sam, that he was not crazy, that he was suffering, in pain and that very soon he would be dead again.

"I think Sam is a good name," I said and had closed my phone before Lisa could say anything else.

At the party, I watched the guests, my hunter instincts still working in high-gear. I kept a close watch on Sarah, only a few feet away, talking with a chubby blonde girl in a yellow dress that did not flatter.

Sarah drifted back toward me and coaxed me into dancing with her whenever a slow song came on. I tried to concentrate on the party: the guests, the food and drink, the music (that sucked, by the way: it was mostly crappy pop songs), and Sarah. I kept watch over her like she was the little sister I never had. A few of the young women made their way over to me but I politely ignored their advances. I was already on thin ice with Lisa as it was and I didn't want to make one stupid mistake just for a one night stand. Besides, I had grown more mature in those months when Sam was gone and I only had Lisa and Ben to hold me together. I had a girlfriend and a baby to think about now; maybe Lisa and I would eventually get married one day and I wasn't going to mess up that happy thought by sleeping around. I loved Lisa, I really did. She had been there for me when no one else was. Lisa had seen me in my darkest hour and had not turned me away.

The most interesting part of the evening came when that Upton guy apparently wanted to dance with Sarah and wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Come on Sarah, just one dance, what could it hurt?" he sniveled.

"I said no Percy," Sarah said, she was getting flustered. Spots of red appeared on her cheeks.

"I thought we had a connection Sarah," Upton persisted.

"The only connection we had was that our fathers played golf together every Sunday!" Sarah said, her voice high-pitched.

"But…I have money Sarah! You'd never want for anything!" Was he asking her to dance or marry him?

The other guests had stopped dancing and talking and now stood in a wide circle, watching Upton in his feeble attempt at getting Sarah to dance with him.

"What do those guys have that I don't have?" Upton asked.

"Percy, stop, you're making a fool of yourself," Sarah pleaded with him.

I began to push through the crowd of onlookers. I shoved Upton away from Sarah before he could hurt her and took Sarah's hand in mine.

We walked out without speaking.

"I'm sorry Dean," Sarah said.

"Don't apologize. That Upton guy was being a dick," I said and slowed down until I had stopped and was facing Sarah.

"I'm sorry, it's just everything going on with Sam and Lisa and the baby…" I trailed off. I was so stressed out it felt like it would all soon bubble over.

Sarah said nothing and we continued walking back down the street at a more leisurely pace. It started to rain but we didn't hurry.

We got to Sarah's house quickly and stepped inside. The misty rain had settled in Sarah's black hair, causing it to shine like it was covered in dark, precious stones.

"I'm just going to change," Sarah said and walked toward the staircase.

I slipped off my dress shoes and went into the living room to find it empty.

"Sam? Abdiel?" I called aloud.

Had something happened?

"Sam? Where are you?" I looked around the living room even though it was obvious it was deserted and peered into the kitchen.

My heart began to pound with panic until, glancing back into the living room I saw that the light to the back porch was on.

I opened the sliding screen door and stepped outside in my sock and feet. I calmed down when I saw the shapes of my brother and the angel in the garden.

I walked over the grass and paving stone walkways, now chilly with moisture.

Sam was sitting on one of Sarah's carved stone benches, his shoulders were slumped and he was staring at the ground. Abdiel stood beside the bench, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette.

"Sam?" I asked.

Sam lifted his head and I saw that his eyes were red-rimmed, green glass in the light from the porch.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"I…I just feel like we're losing. I'm so afraid of losing to Lucifer," Sam whispered.

"Don't say that. We'll win, we have to. Think of all the people who are depending on you to beat Lucifer…Think of Sarah," I said.

Sam closed his eyes at Sarah's name.

"Come inside Sam. It's late and we could both use some sleep," I said and Sam got to his feet and my brother and Abdiel followed me into the house.

Sam, Sarah and I decided to call it a night and got ready for bed. I was exhausted, from all the stress and worry, I think. Sam went into the other guest room even though I knew he probably not get any sleep tonight. I turned off the light and lay down on the bed. I watched the shadows from the window move across the ceiling until I fell asleep.

SPN

I lay awake. Whenever I tried to sleep all I could think about was Sarah and the terrible things Lucifer had promised to do to her. God knows I would never forgive myself if I let that son of a bitch touch her. Dean said I would be able to kill the Devil but I had my doubts. I didn't know what to do. I abhorred the idea of killing Sarah but just the thought of Lucifer torturing her filled me with strong, bitter emotions I felt I would choke on.

I didn't dare to think about the choice I had to make. I could only see Sarah in my mind's eye as that poor, tormented creature in that jail cell. I sat up in bed and padded out to the hall and down the stairs. I walked slowly to the kitchen and picked a knife from the butcher's block on the counter.

I peered into the living room and did not see Abdiel so I crept back upstairs toward Sarah's bedroom. I tiptoed inside and stood over Sarah's sleeping form. She lay on her back, her hair spread out around her head, and one arm lying on the pillow just about the dark halo of hair.

I held the knife poised over Sarah's chest. If I hit it just right she'd feel no pain, she wouldn't even wake up…

Sarah rolled onto her side and muttered my name in her sleep.

I rushed from the room, gripping the handle of the knife tightly. Downstairs, I replaced the knife and Abdiel appeared, looking at me curiously.

I put a finger to my lips and the angel followed me upstairs. I went into Dean's room and shook his shoulder to wake him.

"Dean!" I whispered loudly.

Dean rolled from his stomach onto his back.

"Wake up!" I whispered very close to his ear.

Dean's eyes snapped open and he sat up.

"Sam? What's wrong?" Dean asked groggily.

"He wants me to hurt her, Dean. Lucifer wants me to kill Sarah," I said.

"What!" Dean exclaimed.

"We can't stay here. Sarah isn't safe with me around," I answered, "I'm afraid that if I don't do it by myself that he'll make me, like the girl in Angel Fire."

SPN

I opened my mouth to protest and then decided against speaking what I wanted to. I looked up past Sam in the darkened room and saw Abdiel's silhouette by the door.

Even if Lucifer was bluffing, I didn't want Sam living in constant fear that he would harm Sarah. I guessed I should not doubt the power Lucifer still had over my brother.

"Okay, you two wait at the car. I'll get our stuff and tell Sarah," I stood and walked out of the room. Sarah was sleeping soundly. I cleared my throat and she woke up instantly, like magic.

"We have to leave," I said, "Sam and Abdiel and I."

"Why?" Sarah asked and sat up, turning on the bedside lamp. Her concern was clear upon her face.

"Things are getting pretty close to the end and Sam doesn't want to put you in danger," I said, it wasn't a lie, I was just candy-coating it for her.

I was afraid that Sarah would start to cry and demand to come with us but she didn't.

Sarah nodded, her face determined and angry again.

"Will you wait for a second? I want to give you something to give to Sam," Sarah said and walked to her closet and opened the doors.

"If it's a kiss, I don't think it will be the same coming from me," I said, trying to lighten the mood but failing.

Sarah rummaged around in the back of the large closet, found a red shoebox, opened it and took something small out. Seconds later Sarah walked over to me with the token on her palm. I opened my hand and she laid a plain silver chain in my palm with two silver pendants on it. On closer inspection I saw that each pendant was engraved with the picture of a man.

"Saints Christopher and Jude," Sarah said, "the patrons of travelers and desperate causes."

I nodded and closed my hand around the chain.

"I was going to give this to Sam…later… but he needs them now I think," Sarah said, blinking back tears.

"Thank you Sarah…for everything you've done for Sam," I said.

I leaned forward and kissed Sarah's cheek, "I'll call you when it's over."

I gathered up our belongings from the guest rooms and carried the duffel bags downstairs. I had stuffed the chain into the pocket of my dress pants for safekeeping.

I pulled my boots on and put the dress shoes in my duffel bag.

When I walked outside Sam and Abdiel were standing by the Impala. Abdiel was leaning against the driver's side door.

"I'll drive," the angel said.

"Do you know how?" I had the keys in my hand already.

"'Course I know how to drive! I've been on earth for centuries and you think I'd never learned to drive," Abdiel flicked the stub of his cigarette and crushed the butt with the toe of his spat.

"No offence but I don't really trust you with my car," I said.

"Where are you planning to go?" Abdiel asked and shoved his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat.

"Uh…Bobby's?" I hadn't really thought about it but Sioux Falls seemed as good a place as any. It was better than staying at a string of random motels anyway.

"I can get you there by late morning if you let me take the wheel," the angel said.

I was still skeptical.

"Dean, trust me," Abdiel said seriously.

I hesitated. I was tired, exhausted and the idea of driving non-stop to South Dakota didn't really do anything for me.

"Alright," I said and handed the angel the keys.

Abdiel unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat like he'd been driving cars his entire life.

I took shotgun so Sam could stretch out in the backseat if he needed to.

Abdiel started the engine, checked the mirrors and adjusted the seat to his height. I stared.

"Wot? I told you I can drive," Abdiel turned his hawk-like gaze on me.

"I figured that you meant you had driven once or twice," I said.

"Cars are not all that difficult to figure out," Abdiel said and began backing out of the driveway.

It was weird being in the passenger seat and watching an angel drive the Impala.

"You should fasten your seat belt," Abdiel said.

That made me nervous, "why?"

Abdiel didn't say anything but easily maneuvered out of the driveway and began driving down the street, picking up speed as he went.

I pointed out what the speed limit was as the speedometer rose past it.

We were well over the limit when we got out onto the main roads, the other cars honking as we whipped past.

"You might want to slow down!" I suggested. The last thing we needed was to get arrested.

In response Abdiel sped up. I looked back at Sam, his face the picture of composure.

Once we got onto the highway Abdiel drove with a lead foot. I was glad at least that the road was not very busy and the cars we did pass were but streaks of colour.

I didn't sleep but closed my eyes just to rest. I knew we were coming to the end. I could feel it, like electricity in the air just before a thunderstorm. I had no idea how Sam must be feeling but I guessed it was probably worse than me.

I wasn't sure where we were when Sam spoke up from the backseat.

"Pull over, I'm going to be sick," Sam said and Abdiel stopped the car immediately.

It was early morning, the sky a lighter shade of black. I jumped out of the passenger side as Sam opened the door and vomited inches from the car.

Sam had not eaten anything for a while so all he threw up was bile. I wrinkled my nose at the sour smell. After what seemed like a very long time, Sam straightened, wiped his mouth and looked at me.

"We can go now," he said.

Once Sam and I were back in the car Abdiel began driving faster. As I sat watching the world flash by I began to grow angry again. I was angry that Sam was suffering like this, I was angry that I could do nothing for him, I was angry at God or whoever it was for making Sam do this, I was angry at Raphael and Lucifer…

We arrived in Sioux Falls around ten thirty in the morning. The sun was shining and it was quite warm for a late October day.

Abdiel slowed down once we got to Bobby's. The angel parked the car next to an old, rusted out pickup truck that might once have been blue.

I grabbed our duffel bags and the three of us stepped out.

Abdiel stretched and tossed me the keys.

"Told you I can drive," the angel said with a small smile.

We walked slowly up through the maze of trashed cars to the house beyond. Sam walked almost gingerly, staring at the ground.

Abdiel walked very close to my brother, watching him carefully.

As we approached the house a big Rottweiler came tearing out from the cab of a dilapidated car.

Snarling and foaming the dog made as if to attack until it caught sight or scent of Abdiel when it stopped dead, whimpered and cowered back toward the car.

I looked at Abdiel with a raised eyebrow.

"Other creatures can sense us better than humans," Abdiel explained.

The front door of Bobby's house slammed open and we were greeted by the older hunter pointing a shotgun at us.

When Bobby saw who we were he lowered the weapon, "you could have told me you were coming."

"We were in a bit of a hurry, mate," Abdiel said as we walked up the porch steps and into the house.

"When did you get a new dog?" I asked Bobby.

"I got Rebel a couple of weeks ago," Bobby answered.

"Well, for a guard dog he works very well, except if you're visited by an angel," I said.

Bobby looked at me quizzically but I waved the silent question away.

"We need to stay here for a little while," I said even though I knew Bobby would accept.

Bobby nodded and held the door open for us.

Sam, Abdiel and I stepped inside. I dropped the duffel bags on the floor in the middle of the living room and went into the small kitchen with Bobby.

Abdiel perched on the hunter's desk so he had an unobstructed view of the front yard out the window, the living room and part of the kitchen.

I watched curiously as Sam took his laptop from his duffel bag and sat on Bobby's blue wing-backed chair. Sam had not touched his computer in weeks and I was surprised that he was using it now. I guessed he just wanted something to do.

I turned to Bobby and he handed me a beer out of the fridge. Bobby took a beer for himself and leaned against the counter.

"Sam looks a mess," Bobby whispered as though we were in a library…or a crypt.

I nodded. Sam looked so different now. He had lost a lot of weight; his hair was longer than ever, he was very pale with dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. He no longer held himself with confidence, his shoulders slumped and he seemed to be trying to shrink into himself, whenever he looked directly at me that haunted expression in his eyes was fixed.

If I had been shown a photo a few months ago of what Sam looked like now I don't think I would have recognized him. My heart was breaking for my brother; I just wanted his suffering to end.

"We're close now," I answered Bobby and opened my beer and took a deep drink.

"You're not looking too hot either, are you alright?" Bobby looked at me out the corner of his eye.

"I'm worried for Sam," I confessed.

"Are you sure Sam'll be able to do this," Bobby asked.

"He has to," was all I said. I had told Bobby what Sam would have to do to kill Lucifer but I could hear the doubt in the old hunter's voice.

To change the subject, I asked Bobby what had been going on since I had not been paying any attention to anything supernatural since arriving at Sarah's.

"Nothing. There have been no sightings of demons, no hauntings, no nothing…" Bobby said, "It's as if every paranormal creature out there is waiting for the showdown."

I said nothing but took a swig of beer.

"Oh, there's something you should know: two days ago a group six hunters passed through here looking for you," Bobby said.

I looked at Bobby, slightly alarmed.

"Anyone I know," I asked.

Bobby shook his head, "It was old Jonah Thompson and his boys. He asked if I knew where you were. I lied of course… said you were in Nevada. I'd be careful where I walked for a little while though, Jonah may be crazy as a shit-house rat but he ain't stupid. Now Jonah asked about Sam and I told him he was dead, killed on a hunt- don't look at me like that- and he seemed to believe me but I think we should be careful about this, if Jonah finds out your brother's alive there'd most likely be trouble."

I had heard of Jonah Thompson. He had been over in Asia: Korea, Japan, Vietnam, etc. for a while killing all sorts of beasties over there in his distinctive gory style. I don't know how he did it but Thompson always managed to find some rookie hunter willing to follow in his footsteps. I had been told by both Dad and Bobby to give the nut job a wide berth if I ever had the misfortune of meeting him. I knew it was not a good sign if Jonah Thompson was back on this side of the Atlantic, possibly with a group of apprentices.

"What'd you tell him?" I finished my beer and set the empty bottle on the counter.

"Said you were vacationing with your family, that you were a veteran," Bobby answered.

I nodded. It was partly true: I wasn't hunting anymore and I didn't think I ever would again.

I just hoped Jonah wouldn't decide to pay Bobby a second visit.

I needed to think things over. I was walking slowly down the dirt road that Bobby's junk yard was on. It was midday now- the sun at its highest point in the sky.

I idly kicked pebbles into the drainage ditches on the sides of the road.

I walked slowly back to Bobby's and found Sam, Abdiel and the old hunter in the kitchen. They were sitting at the table. A bowl of tomato soup sat untouched in front of my brother. Apparently, Bobby decided Sam should eat. I knew it was futile though, Sam would refuse.

Bobby looked up at me like a frazzled babysitter stuck with a stubborn child.

"C'mon Sam, you have to eat something," Bobby said as though Sam was a child.

Sam looked at me pleadingly.

Abdiel was sitting, smoking a cigarette and watching the exchange between my brother and the hunter as if he was an anthropologist observing a never-before-seen ritual of some primitive people in the Amazon rainforest.

I took a seat and looked at my brother, "you have to eat Sam. You need your strength."

Sam sighed as if what I had said was the final word.

Painfully slow, Sam ate the soup. I was actually surprised that Sam had listened and hadn't just told me to fuck off.

After Sam had eaten, Bobby and I had steak and eggs. Abdiel watched as my brother sat ramrod straight with his eyes closed.

"Sam," the angel said.

Sam made no indication of having heard.

"Sam!" Abdiel said a little louder.

Sam opened his eyes and looked around.

"Where were you just now?" Abdiel asked, his expression serious.

"Nowhere," Sam muttered.

When we were finished in the kitchen we stood and Sam grimaced and ran to the bathroom just in time before I heard him throwing up.

I wiped a hand over my face and groaned in exasperation.

Bobby looked at me guiltily.

Abdiel stared at me with his raptor-gaze, an unreadable expression on his face.

Two days passed and we walked around Bobby's house like it was a funeral parlour. I knew we did not have long at all. Sam kept 'going away', having hallucinations again and I soon found out why.

It was late evening on the second day when Sam asked if he could speak to me.

"In private," he added.

We went outside and sat on the edge of the front porch. Rebel came over and sniffed my offered hand; he shied away from Sam.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I asked.

Sam didn't speak for a long time and when he did he would not look me in the face, "I'm not taking the pills."

I felt angry at him. Those pills were helping the symptoms of the PTSD, the nightmares, the sleeplessness, the depression, the flashbacks…

"You can't just stop taking your pills Sam!" I said, "Do you want to get sick?"

Sam looked at me, "it's a little too late for that Dean."

"What are you doing this for?" I asked.

"I need my mind sharp if I'm going to kill Lucifer…I don't want to be medicated when I have to focus all my willpower on getting control. I know this is going to make for a bad few days but you have to trust me Dean," Sam said and looked away.

I didn't look at my brother. I took a deep, steadying breath.

"I'm sorry Sam…I am so, so sorry," I whispered, chocking back the lump in my throat.

"Don't be sorry Dean. None of this is your fault," Sam whispered.

I nodded mutely.

"I need to do this Dean…I'm not scared," Sam whispered, his voice emotionless.

I couldn't sit there anymore so I stood abruptly and went back into the house. Bobby looked up at me from the book he was reading and Abdiel went outside so Sam wouldn't be alone.

I waved my hand dismissively at Bobby and sank into the pink wing-backed chair.

I couldn't break down now; I needed to be strong for Sam. I needed to help him when the time came, I could not hesitate.

I was continually stunned by Sam's calm demeanor in the face of all that he had to do. I guess he thought he needed to appear relaxed for me. But he didn't need to; I had already seen Sam at his worst, at his most vulnerable so I didn't know why he thought he needed to keep up the act. Maybe it wasn't for me after all; maybe it was for him and him alone.

The last days were tense, Bobby and I were already in mourning and Sam was lost in his own world.

Abdiel stayed close to Sam, like a shadow. I could see a look of concern on the angel's face whenever I looked at him. It must be difficult for him to be unable to do anything for Sam when he was supposed to protect my brother.

Sam had hallucinations frequently and it was difficult to snap him out of them. Abdiel always watched Sam so he wouldn't hurt himself. When Sam freaked out I went out into the junk yard, I couldn't watch.

Bobby wanted to come with us when we went to kill Lucifer but I refused. It would be easier with just Sam and me there.

The old hunter didn't look too pleased that I was leaving him out but he didn't press the subject, didn't complain.

I didn't sleep and didn't eat much, I drank way too many beers and coffee and energy drinks than was possibly healthy.

Sam looked very ill, his face was pale, almost grey and his eyes were glassy, full of pain (whether physical or psychological, I could not tell). I was seriously having doubts that he would be able to fight Lucifer in his condition. Bobby tentatively suggested getting Sam to drink demon blood, like before, but I didn't think he'd be able to keep it down long enough for it to start working.

Most of the days I spent talking to Sam, just talking about nothing in particular. I just wanted Sam to know that I cared about him, that I would never forget him, and that I'd look after Sarah when he was gone.

"You're the best brother anyone could have," I said and I really meant it.

I didn't want to believe that I was losing Sam again.

I knew Sam was terrified of losing to Lucifer and so I assured him he'd win.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I began to cry.

Sam looked at me for a second and then placed an arm around my shoulders. He was trying to comfort me when it should have been the other way around.

October thirtieth, Devil's Night, dawned cloudy and rainy. The air was thick and electrically charged. Large, purple and black thunderheads crowded the sky and showered down icy pellets of rain.

Sam was not at all distant that day; he was agitated, on red-alert the entire time. He wouldn't stop moving, he paced around the house. Abdiel left to see if he could gather reinforcements that they may need.

I tried to remain calm and collected in the face of Sam's agitation but it was difficult. Bobby puttered around in his junk yard until the weather grew too bad to be outside. Bobby let Rebel inside and the dog curled up at his feet as the three of us sat at the kitchen table.

I had planned on calling Cas as soon as we knew Lucifer was free. I just hoped the angel would answer.

I was constantly glancing at Sam, checking his expression, asking how he was feeling.

"Dean, stop asking if I'm okay!" Sam snapped.

"Okay, okay…sorry," I said and took a deep drink of the beer I had gotten from the fridge.

Sam looked at me and sighed, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped."

"Whatever, just forget it happened," I said and tapped my foot against the floor impatiently.

I slipped a hand into the pocket of my pants- I was wearing the dress pants from Upton's Halloween party- and felt something unusual in it. I pulled out the silver chain that Sarah had given me for Sam.

"Here Sam, Sarah wanted you to have this," I said and Sam held out his hand. He looked at the pendants and smiled. He opened the clasp and slid the chain around his neck and put it under his shirt. He nodded at me in thanks, looking somewhat less anxious. I smiled wanly back.


	10. Flash Of The Blade

It was early evening, just after Bobby and I had finished eating when Sam and I knew that Lucifer had been freed.

To give ourselves something to do Sam and I were doing the dishes while Bobby sat at the table, drinking a beer.

It was black as pitch outside, a storm roared on; lightning flashed every couple of minutes, illuminating the junk yard to make a stark vision of twisted metal.

The ceiling light in the kitchen glared coldly, causing colours to be more severe, brighter.

I was washing the dishes at a leisurely pace, lost in thought when it seemed I was jolted by an electric current, as though I had been struck by lightning. That's the best way I can describe it I think, yes, like being hit by lightning.

At the same time I felt the jolt, Sam let out a sound between a gasp and a yelp of pain and the plate he had been holding slipped from his fingers and smashed on the linoleum floor.

Sam doubled over in apparent pain. He curled into a ball, crying out in agony. I didn't know what to do so I grabbed a hold of my brother and hauled him into a sitting position on one of the kitchen chairs.

Sam lifted his head and looked at me; his eyes were glazed with pain.

"He's free Dean," Sam muttered, "Raphael succeeded."

"Shit," I swore. I knew this was coming but now that it was here I felt lost.

"Bobby, look after Sam, I'm calling Cas," I said and hurried from the kitchen.

In sock and feet I stepped out onto the front porch and walked deeper into the junk yard.

I splashed through puddles of icy water, slipped over stones and pebbles wet with rain, ignored sharp pains as I stepped on scrap pieces of metal.

In seconds I was soaked through with cold water, my hair plastered to my head and my clothes clinging to me like a second skin.

Thunder rumbled menacingly and lightning flashed to illuminate the skeletal cars stacked high around me.

I came to a stop in a pool of mud four feet wide and ankle deep.

"Cas!" I shouted.

Lightning flashed as if in answer.

"Where are you?"

A fork of lightning hit the ground somewhere nearby and I could smell the burnt ozone.

Maybe he can't hear me in this storm, I thought.

"Earth to Castiel! We have a problem!" I shouted at the top of my voice.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I jumped. I turned and saw Cas.

The angel did not look happy, but I guess that was to be expected.

I motioned for him to follow me and walked back to the house.

I slammed the door closed once we were inside. Bobby came over and handed me a towel so I could dry myself off a bit.

Sam had managed to move to the living room and was sitting on the blue chair with Abdiel close by.

I was a little surprised to see the British angel.

Cas marched up to Sam, "we must retrieve the Seraph Blade immediately."

The angel apparently didn't care that Sam was still shaken by the fact that Lucifer had just been freed from his prison.

Abdiel stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on Cas's arm.

"Give him a few minutes, mate."

Cas looked annoyed that Abdiel was interfering.

"Do you think Lucifer and Raphael are going to wait for us?" Cas snapped.

"Give him a half hour," Abdiel said, "that's all I'm asking."

Cas looked frustrated but agreed, "thirty minutes, no more and then we must find the Seraph Blade."

Cas vanished and Abdiel looked at me.

"You alright there, Dean? You look like a drowned rat," the British angel said and lit a cigarette.

"I'm fine," I said and went over to Sam.

Sam was in obvious distress. I placed a palm on his forehead and felt that he was very warm.

"What happened?" I asked.

Sam stared up at me with a slightly confused expression.

"It felt as though someone shoved a rusty ice pick into my head," Sam said, "it was just so sudden… and then I felt…dislocated."

I nodded. I didn't really understand what that meant but I knew it must have something to do with Sam's weird connection to Lucifer.

"Can you…can you sense him or whatever?" I asked tentatively.

Sam concentrated for a second and then shook his head, "I don't know where…how does that even work?"

Abdiel blew out a stream of smoke, "I don't know. I'm not sure if it's happening because you're Lucifer's vessel or if it has to do with you being in Hell."

"But you're an angel? Shouldn't you know these things?" Bobby asked.

"I don't have all the answers, mate" Abdiel replied.

After twenty minutes and three glasses of water, Sam had calmed down.

"Why does it have to be Cas?" Sam asked Abdiel.

"Cas wants to," Abdiel said.

"Why?" I asked, "You're the one with the connection to Sam."

Abdiel shrugged, "I don't know Dean, but I wouldn't argue with Cas- he's not in a good mood."

None of us were in a good mood but I felt nervous about letting Cas drag Sam all over God's green earth to look for the Seraph Blade. Cas was acting very shady and it was creeping me out.

"You don't think he's playing on Lucifer's team, do you?" I had to ask.

"Wot? Castiel? Dean, he'd rather rip out his Grace then work for Lucifer and Raphael," Abdiel said.

The British angel turned his bird of prey gaze on me, "I think he's just forgotten what it's like to be human or almost so. He's been spending a lot of time in Heaven, having to deal with the war and all that. No, I think he's on our side, or at least on the side of God and the faithful angels."

I nodded. I was more willing to trust Abdiel, who had always been there for Sam and so far had done nothing to jeopardize my trust in him, despite his past actions.

The half an hour had passed way too quickly when Cas appeared again. Sam stood, ready for what he had to do. I only hoped that he'd find the thing quickly.

Sam walked over to Cas and the angel took his arm and they disappeared.

Abdiel checked a gold pocket watch that he took from the breast pocket of his greatcoat.

"If you two don't mind, I'd like to make sure our little army is ready," the British angel said.

"Wait, what army?" I asked.

"Raphael is not going to just sit back and sip martinis while you and Sam go out to kill the Devil," Abdiel said, "Cas and I will need to distract him while Sam does what he needs to do."

"Oh okay," I said dumbly. I had completely forgotten about the fact that Abdiel was gathering reinforcements just in case Raphael decided to show up and crash the party. I felt a pang when I realized that Abdiel would not be with us when we went to kill Lucifer- I would have felt somewhat confident if I had known the British angel would be by our side- I'm sure it would have made Sam feel better as well.

Abdiel nodded and vanished.

"I'll make some coffee," Bobby said and busied himself in the kitchen.

I paced around the living room, first empty-handed and then with a mug of coffee cooling in my clenched fist.

Rebel came out and asked for attention so I spent ten minutes petting his glossy, black coat.

"Do you think Sam's okay?" I asked Bobby. I was sure that Cas could take care of himself but I wasn't so sure about my brother.

"He'll be fine Dean," Bobby assured me and poured some whiskey into my coffee.

I drifted to sleep a few times but I always woke with a start, disappointed and worried that Sam and Cas were not back yet.

The thirty-first dawned watery beige with a weak sun trying to shine through the cloud cover.

Bobby made eggs and bacon for breakfast but I didn't eat much. I was really starting to worry.

"Cas never takes this long to find something," I said as I sipped some more coffee.

"Well, it's not really Cas, its Sam who can find the Blade so maybe he is not sure where it is," Bobby said.

"Or maybe it's just some wild goose chase and the thing doesn't even exist," I said.

After breakfast I paced around the living room and drank some more coffee.

I had just sat down at Bobby's desk when Sam and Cas appeared out of thin air.

Sam staggered a little and looked exhausted but he stayed on his feet. Cas had a frustrated expression on his face.

I stood and Sam held up Lucifer's Seraph Blade. It looked like any other angel weapon I had seen before.

Sam dropped the Blade down on the desk as though it was a viper and wiped his hands on his pants.

Bobby leaned against the kitchen doorway.

I peered curiously at the weapon, "that's Lucifer's Seraph Blade?"

"Don't underestimate its unremarkable appearance Dean," Cas said in a harsh voice.

"What took you so long?" I asked Sam but Cas answered.

"Your brother could not accurately locate the Seraph Blade for some time and so we were led into dead ends," the angel spoke as if it was Sam's fault.

"Where was it?" I asked.

Sam answered this time, "Port Arthur, Tasmania."

"Well, what do we do now?" I wondered aloud.

"If Sam knew where Lucifer was we could kill him," Cas said and just about glared at Sam.

"You don't know where he is?" I asked.

Sam shook his head, "it's all really vague still."

I nodded, "so now we wait."

This wait was definitely not fun. Cas stuck around and kept asking Sam every couple of minutes if he knew where Lucifer was.

"Okay Cas, I have had it up to here with this shit. I don't care if you've been spending most of your time Upstairs: have an ounce of sympathy! Sam is going to die, in case you've forgotten, so shut up about it!" I had eventually snapped, "when Sam knows where the Devil is he'll tell you!"

Cas managed to look appropriately chastised and mumbled an apology.

The angel sat at the desk, keeping an eye on the Seraph Blade as though the thing might grow legs and wander back to Lucifer if no one was watching it.

Sam and I laid out our rudimentary plans.

My brother did not like the idea of me coming along but there was no way out of it: someone needed to hold onto the Seraph Blade until Sam was ready.

"Don't get in between us Dean," Sam warned, "no matter what he might say or do. I don't want you to get hurt."

"You won't even know I'm there," I said seriously. I knew I had to let Sam do what he needed to do, that I couldn't run in like the cavalry because I would only get myself killed.

So pretty much I just had to sit back and enjoy the show until Sam said 'yes.'

"What happens if, you know, you can't do it?" I asked.

"Then I guess you have to kill him," Sam said. We still were not sure if anyone else wielding the Seraph Blade could kill Lucifer or if it could only be Sam…but there wasn't any time nor volunteers to test out the theory so we had to hope that if Sam couldn't do it then I could.

Sam's sense of Lucifer grew with each passing hour and Cas wanted to get the job over with but Sam refused.

"I want to do this right the first time. I can't call for a do-over if something goes wrong" Sam said much to the angel's annoyance.

"I want to know what state he's in, what county, what city, what street before we go searching for him," my brother continued.

"I don't want any unpleasant surprises Cas," Sam ended the conversation.

It was now Halloween night and I wished I was in Cicero instead of waiting for the end. I was supposed to take Ben out 'Trick or Treating' this year not sitting in Bobby's kitchen drinking beers with my brother whose days were numbered, a moody angel and a grumpy old hunter.

"How's Lisa doing?" Sam asked.

Ben had called earlier in the week to give me a summary of his mom's condition.

"Ben says she's kind of depressed right now; she starts crying at almost everything," I said. At least Lisa wasn't angry all the time now but just in case I decided not to talk to her when Ben offered.

"Do you know what the baby is?" Bobby asked.

"A boy," I smiled. Lisa had finally told me. She wanted to wait for a while before knowing the child's gender.

"That's awesome Dean!" Sam said and smiled, happy for me.

"If I had any cigars I'd offer you one," Bobby said.

After that the conversation died away and we sat in silence.

"Do you think Raphael let Michael out as well?" Sam asked suddenly.

"So what if he did? Michael and Lucifer are not going to get the chance to go at it," I said.

I wasn't sure if Raphael would let his brother out so I leaned back in my chair until I could see the living room and the desk where Cas sat.

"Hey, Cas? Do you know if Michael's out of the Box as well?"

The angel looked surprised I would ask.

"I doubt it Dean. Raphael and Michael butted heads almost as often as Michael did with Lucifer. Besides, Michael wants to kill Lucifer and Raphael wants a business partner, so no, I do not believe Michael was set free from the Cage," Cas answered.

I looked back at Sam and Bobby, "well, that's one less angel to deal with at least."

"Poor Adam," Sam muttered.

The last day of October passed quietly into November.

On the second day of November I woke from an exhausted sleep to find Sam at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

"Feeling better?" I asked my brother as I poured myself some coffee.

"I know where Lucifer is," Sam whispered.

"Did you tell Cas yet?" I sat down.

Sam shook his head, "I wanted you to know before he did."

"So, where is Lucifer?" I asked and took a sip of coffee.

"Nome, Alaska."

Nobody moved. I just wanted to have a small semblance of normalcy before I lost Sam again.

Sam finished his coffee first. He stood and placed the dirty mug into the sink with the slow motions of someone in a dream.

I guzzled the rest of my coffee and left the cup on the kitchen table. Bobby set his half-finished drink on the counter and walked out with us to the living room.

The angel looked up as we approached the desk.

"Okay Cas," Sam said, his voice tight, "Lucifer's in Nome."

"There is no time to lose," Cas said and walked around the desk. He picked up the Seraph Blade and placed it in my hand.

Bobby turned to Sam and said with tears in his eyes, "whatever happens, boy, know that I'm proud of you."

"Thank you Bobby…for everything," Sam said and turned to Cas.

"Ready?" the angel asked.

"No," Sam answered.

Cas put one hand on my shoulder and his other hand on Sam's arm. I realized an instant too late that Sam and I were not dressed for the weather in Alaska and then decided it didn't really matter anyway.

There was the familiar sense of vertigo and suddenly Sam and I were standing in a snow covered cemetery. Fir trees encircled the area. Old grey gravestones poked up through the snow.

Cas had disappeared the instant he dropped us off- to go help Abdiel distract Raphael if that was needed.

A bright sun shone down, turning the snow luminescent. I couldn't help but notice the lack of birdsong or the usual squirrels that call cemeteries home. A chill wind picked up, causing both Sam and I to shiver.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Jensens Cemetery," Sam answered.

I looked around, we appeared to be alone.

"Maybe you made a mistake…I don't think anyone's here-," Just as the words left my mouth I flew backwards and slammed into the trunk of a tall fir tree.

Black spots flashed before my eyes and a sharp pain shot up my spine to the base of my skull. I scrabbled in the snow until I came into a sitting position and my vision cleared.

I watched as Sam walked calmly from where we had been dropped off to stand before a girl who couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old.

My first thought was that Lucifer had sent some demon to scope out the area before making an appearance.

I realized that I was no longer holding the Seraph Blade and I was filled with panic. Silently, I searched the surrounding snow until I saw, four feet away from me, the Blade glinting silvery in the sunlight.

I looked through the maze of gravestones to where Sam stood facing the demon. I decided that the demon was sufficiently distracted and moved ever so slowly toward the Seraph Blade so as not to attract attention.

I grabbed the Seraph Blade's handle and hissed, stunned that it had seemed to absorb the cold around it. I put the end of my shirtsleeve over my hand so I could hold the weapon more comfortably.

I crouched in the snow, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. But all Sam and the demon were doing was standing there. What were they waiting for?

The demon appeared to be appraising Sam, a small smile on her lips.

The girl was very short, not even five feet. She was not dressed for the weather either but only a little better than Sam and I. She was wearing a pair of black jogging pants tucked into those chunky, beige suede boots that all the teen girls have. She had a magenta brand name sweatshirt on, I think it was Lulu Lemon or something like that (I only know the name because Lisa has one).

She had long, curly bright red hair that had to be natural. From here I could see she had large blue eyes and lots of freckles in a pleasant face still round with baby-fat.

The demon spoke first, "Sam, so good to see you. I knew you'd come."

"That's an interesting choice of a vessel," Sam said.

I gaped. That girl was Lucifer! The thought was very disturbing.

The girl shrugged.

"I couldn't afford to be picky," Lucifer said.

Sam just glared and said nothing.

I felt sorry for the poor girl.

"Why are you here now after you've been avoiding me for so long?" Lucifer asked, sounding just like some pouty teenager.

"You know why I'm here," Sam said stiffly.

"I missed you too, Sam," Lucifer grinned.

"Let's just skip the bullshit and get this over with," Sam said.

"Why? Now that we have an audience?" Lucifer asked and glanced at me.

I just prayed to God that Lucifer did not know I had his Seraph Blade.

"Leave Dean out of this," Sam demanded.

Lucifer turned his attention back to my brother.

"Then why did you bring him along?" Lucifer asked.

"He didn't want me to be alone," Sam said harshly.

"How touching," Lucifer mocked.

"Do you know what day it is?" Lucifer asked.

"November second," Sam answered.

"It's the anniversary of your mother's murder. It's the day Azazel marked you for me," Lucifer said as casually as if saying that today was a Monday. The irony of the day was dark.

The Devil changed the subject, grinning. He wasn't ready for Sam to say 'yes' just yet.

"Remember our time together in Hell, Sam?" Lucifer asked. Sam needed no reminder so I knew Lucifer was speaking solely for me.

"Yes," Sam whispered, not daring to take his eyes off Lucifer.

Lucifer grinned broadly.

"Do you remember how strong you were in the beginning? How you had hope? How you thought it didn't matter what I did to you as long as all those pathetic humans were safe?" Lucifer stepped closer to Sam and my brother backed up.

I didn't want to hear this. Not because I couldn't take it but because Sam had not told me every little detail about his time in the Cage with Lucifer and I respected that decision. Heck, I had not told him everything about my stay in Hell. Besides, I did not want to hear about Sam's torture from its perpetrator.

"Stop it! Don't say anymore!" Sam demanded.

Lucifer ignored him and continued, "I chipped away at your armour though, inch by inch…I was very patient…I had the rest of eternity to do with you as I wished. You were beyond salvation."

I think I had stopped breathing as I listened to Lucifer.

"Before you were whisked away you were a broken creature Sam. You begged and cried for me to stop the pain…you were teetering on the brink of madness and just before I could shove you over the edge you were saved," Lucifer grinned with glee, relishing the moment.

Sam's expression was one of deep pain.

I felt sick to my stomach.

"So I will ask you again: why are you here?" Lucifer asked.

Sam took a steadying breath and spoke, "I can't run anymore. I am tired of hiding from what I cannot stop."

Lucifer looked thoughtful, "so you are going to fulfill your destiny?"

Sam nodded.

The girl's blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"This isn't a trick? You're not lying to me are you?"

"No, I'm done. I'm finished. I surrender," Sam said.

I held my breath again. I was shivering badly in the cold. My feet and hands had gone numb.

"No Horsemen's' rings hidden up your sleeve?" Lucifer asked and Sam held out his hands to show they were empty.

"What about your brother?" Lucifer looked at me and I froze like a rabbit under the glare of an eagle.

"Dean has nothing," Sam said, using what was his best poker face.

I looked my most innocent. I knew my life and Sam's depended on it.

"You are very weak Sam," Lucifer said, seriously, "not like before. If you do have anything planned I am too strong for you to overcome."

I hoped that we weren't just handing Lucifer his vessel gift-wrapped.

The girl stepped close to Sam and placed a hand on his arm.

"I'm glad you've come to see things my way. You're making the right choice," Lucifer said seriously, almost compassionately, almost.

Sam closed his eyes at the girl's touch. He opened them again with a look of surrender.

"If you are ready, say it," Lucifer took a step backwards.

My heart pounded in my chest as I watched.

"Do you agree to fulfill your role as my vessel?" Lucifer asked formally.

"Yes," Sam whispered, barely audible over the wind.

I slammed my eyes shut against the harsh, bright light that followed.

"Dean!" Sam's voice called out, full of emotion.

I looked up. Sam was still on his feet, his hands to his head as though keeping his skull form exploding. I noticed that the girl lay crumpled a couple of feet away from Sam. I didn't know if she was alive or not but I doubted she had survived.

Sam looked up at me, his expression belying pain. I hesitated. I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help it. It was either Sam and he was going to kill himself or it was Lucifer and I was about to die.

"Dean, there's no time!" Sam said and I stepped forward, waiting for Lucifer to kill me.

I walked up to my brother and held out the Seraph Blade with one shaking hand.

Sam snatched the Blade and motioned for me to back up.

I stared wide-eyed as Sam gripped the weapon's handle with both hands, its blade pointing at himself.

I could see Sam's hands tremble and had no doubt that Lucifer was fighting like mad to get control before my brother could use the Blade.

Sam went down on his knees. He must be using all his strength focused on keeping Lucifer at bay.

"Don't watch," Sam whispered and I turned my head.

I heard Sam gasp as he stabbed himself. I couldn't help myself and looked out the corner of my eye. There was a bright flash of light and I covered my face with one arm for protection.

Sam lay crumpled on the ground. A wound in his abdomen staining his shirt and the snow red. The Seraph Blade gripped in one limp hand, its blade stained with blood up to the hilt.

Had it worked? I ran over and looked down. Sam's eyes were closed but he was breathing! I decided to take a chance; I had to believe it had worked, that Lucifer was dead.

To be sure I wasn't imagining it I put my face close to Sam's and felt warm breath on my cheek.

"Sam! Can you hear me?" I asked.

"Cas!" I called out but there was no answer from the angel.

The wound was bleeding profusely and I had nothing to stop it. I grabbed my cell phone from the pocket of my jeans and took three tries to call an ambulance because my fingers were too stiff and numb.

I stammered into the receiver. I couldn't articulate what I wanted to say and the operator was no help.

I concentrated on saying Jensens Cemetery very slowly and clearly. I didn't know what was wrong with me. Eventually the 911 operator understood and told me that they would send an ambulance.

I sat down in the snow beside my brother, "don't worry Sammy. Help's coming."

For the next few hours events were all a blur of activity. The paramedics came and found us. They put Sam onto a stretcher and got him into the ambulance. They checked the girl for a pulse and shook their heads, zipped her into a black bag.

They asked me what had happened, what the three of us were doing out here with no winter clothing. One young paramedic grabbed a blanket and draped it over my shoulders.

The paramedics said words that I didn't understand in my confused state. Words like frostbite, hypothermia, exsanguinations, evisceration…

I don't remember the ambulance ride to the hospital in Nome at all.

I vaguely remember being led into a small room and an older doctor attending me. Slowly the confusion passed as I warmed up.

"What happened?" I asked as the doctor wrapped gauze around my hands.

"You have frostbite and hypothermia young man," the doctor said.

I nodded. My fingers and feet were beginning to tingle with pain.

"What were you three doing out in the cemetery with no winter clothes on?" the doctor asked and I couldn't give him an answer.

"Where's my brother?" I wanted to know.

"The young man you came in with?"

I nodded.

"He's in surgery," the doctor said.

The doctor made me stay in the room for four hours until he was satisfied I was recovered from the hypothermia.

When the doctor gave me the go-ahead I made my way to the waiting room. I could walk but it hurt. I had only gotten mild frostbite, it was painful but there would be no permanent damage.

I sat in one of the uncomfortable orange plastic chairs and waited, and waited and waited some more.

I grew nervous every time a doctor approached, only to find they were for someone else. Hours passed and I was still waiting. I made my way to the tiny cafeteria and got some bad, cheap coffee out of the machine.

I realized that God must have answered my prayers if Sam was in surgery instead of the morgue.

I wandered back to the waiting room and sat down with the Styrofoam cup in my bandaged hands.

It was dark when Abdiel and Cas appeared. I had just finished what I was sure was my fiftieth cup of coffee when the sliding doors of the hospital opened and the two angels came strolling in.

"I'm telling you, mate, he's still alive," Abdiel said.

"You know as well as I do that it is not possible for Sam to still be alive," Cas said.

They caught sight of me and walked over.

"Dean, tell Abdiel that Sam is not alive," Cas said.

"Cas, Sam is alive…well, he was the last time I checked," I answered.

"That is impossible! Are you sure Sam killed Lucifer?" Cas said.

"Either Lucifer's dead or the doctors are operating on him right now," I said.

Cas was speechless. He didn't know what to say. He glared accusingly at Abdiel.

"Don't look at me, I was with you the entire time," Abdiel said.

"Dean Winchester?" a doctor approached.

"Yes," I said and stood.

"I'm Dr. Frost," the doctor was maybe a little older than I was with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Is Sam going to be okay?" I asked.

"We've done all that we can for him here. We'd like to send him to Anchorage if that is alright with you," Dr. Frost said. He looked stressed.

"Sure, I'll sign all the papers or whatever," I said.

The doctor led me to the nurses' station and handed me a stack of papers.

I spent twenty minutes filling out all the forms. It was difficult to write with gauze wrapped around my hands. A lot of them wanted to know Sam's past medical history, any allergies to medication, etc.

I handed the papers in and turned back to the angels.

"What did you do Dean?" Cas asked.

"I didn't do anything," I said.

"No one has survived a wound from a Seraph Blade, they are designed to kill both the angel and the vessel," Cas said.

"You want to know what I did Cas? I asked God to save him, okay?" I snapped.

"What?" Cas looked confused.

"God saved Sam," I said slowly.

Both Abdiel and Cas stared at me with dumbfounded expressions.

"I need to go," Cas said and disappeared. Yeah, he just vanished from the waiting room like he had never been there.

"Can you take me to Anchorage?" I asked Abdiel and he nodded.

We waited around until Dr. Frost returned and told us what hospital they were sending Sam to.

The doctor asked if I wanted someone to drive me out there but I told him I had it covered.

Abdiel and I stepped outside and the angel healed my frostbite and then took me to Anchorage.

Once again I waited and waited. I sat in another uncomfortable plastic chair, blue this time while beside Abdiel.

"Is Cas going to be okay?" I asked.

"He's just confused that Sam managed to survive the wound," Abdiel said.

"Oh," I answered. I was actually just as confused as the angel about this one.

"Cas will get over it," Abdiel said, "he just needs time."

I looked at my watch. Sam had been in surgery for nearly ten hours.

"Can't you just fix Sam?" I asked.

"No, Dean I can't" Abdiel answered.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Seraph Blades are created with a spell that prevents any angel from repairing the damage they cause," Abdiel said.

"Should the doctor be taking this long?" I wondered aloud.

"Seraph Blades are supposed to do maximum damage…I expect the doctors are trying their best," Abdiel whispered.

I stood and found a coffee machine and came back to the waiting room.

As I sat down I felt my cell phone in my pocket and realized I had completely forgotten to call Sarah.

I pulled my phone out but as though reading my mind Abdiel stopped me.

"I'll get her, mate."

Abdiel walked out of the sliding doors and returned ten minutes later with Sarah. She hurried into the building and sat down beside me. She wore an oversized green sweatshirt and a pair of jeans; she had sneakers on her feet. Her hair was a tangled mess that frizzed around her head like a halo.

"Is Sam going to be okay?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know, I haven't been told anything," I confessed.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting….

"Dean Winchester?" I looked up to see two police officers standing in front of me.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I'm Officer Morgan and this is Officer Dearborn. We'd like to talk to you about the events that occurred in Jensens Cemetery," The first officer said.

I stood and so did Abdiel.

"Who are you?" Morgan asked.

"I'm Mr. Winchester's lawyer," Abdiel said, "He's not answering any questions unless I am with him."

The police officers led us into an empty exam room and closed the door. I had no idea how I was going to explain what happened so that it didn't sound crazy or get me arrested.

Before the officers could begin, Abdiel spoke. He told the officers that the three of us: Sam, the girl and I had been kidnapped and we'd been forced to choose one of us to die. It sounded like something out of a horror film, one of the 'Saw' movies, maybe. I think I had seen something like that in a rerun of Criminal Minds. I remained silent though and let Abdiel work his magic.

Abdiel spun a story so fictitious it had to be real. I watched as Dearborn wrote down all Abdiel said in a little notepad.

"That story has more holes in it than Swiss cheese," I said. I didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to believe it.

"No one will question it," Abdiel said.

"What about all the evidence?" I asked.

"You let me worry about that," the angel said and we returned to the waiting room.

I didn't really care what Abdiel did as long as we were left alone.

It was a full fourteen hours before the doctor came out to see us. The doctor was a tall Asian man named Lau.

He knew I was Sam's brother but he looked questionably at Sarah. He wouldn't say anything in front of her unless she was a relative.

"I'm their sister," Sarah said and Dr. Lau looked convinced.

"We've done all we can for your brother," Dr. Lau said.

"How is he?" Sarah asked.

"He's still in critical condition I'm afraid. We repaired as much of the damage as we could right now but he'll need more surgery," Dr. Lau's face was grim.

"Is he awake? Can we see him?" Sarah asked.

I knew something was wrong so I didn't speak.

"Your brother lost a great deal of blood," Dr. Lau continued, "And he suffered a severe trauma: he is unconscious right now."

Sarah drew in a sharp breath. I closed my eyes for a moment.

"Can we see him?" I asked.

Dr. Lau led us down the hall to the ICU. Sarah and I, after donning sterile gloves and disposable jackets were allowed into the room. The doctors were very worried about infection.

Sam looked so vulnerable lying there in the hospital bed with his eyes closed and monitors beeping around him. An IV line was attached to one hand. At least he was breathing on his own; I could see his chest rise and fall beneath the covers.

Sarah took hold of one of Sam's hands in both of hers. I walked to the other side of the bed and took Sam's other hand.

"I'm so sorry Sam," I apologized.

I felt that I had a hand in everything that had happened to my brother.

Abdiel appeared, looking morose.

"Does he know we're here?" Sarah asked.

"No, love," the angel said.

"Will he wake up?" I asked.

"I don't know Dean," Abdiel said sadly.

"You two should go home," the angel said, "I'll let you know if anything happens."

Reluctantly Sarah and I agreed to go home. I needed to see Lisa anyway. Abdiel took Sarah back to Albany first. I asked Abdiel to take me to Sioux Falls so I could pick up our stuff. When I returned to Indiana I was unpleasantly surprised to find that I my boss had let me go- he had not been impressed to see my 'family emergency' turn into an affair that had taken months and with no word from me in the process. I didn't let that get to me though- from years of being a hunter I always knew how to make Plan B's on the spot- I would start my own construction company, be my own boss and all that…

November turned to December and Sam remained in the hospital; he had slipped into a coma soon after the first surgery and his prospects looked grim. Sam had half a dozen more surgeries but he didn't wake up. When I told Lisa about my brother she seemed genuinely sad for me; she apologized for her behavior over the past few months. She said that she had been childish and terribly inconsiderate. Lisa explained that she had been afraid: afraid of Sam because he seemed so haunted, that it was unnatural for the dead to come back to life and Sam's resurrection had frightened her, she had been afraid that I would leave and she would never see me again. Lisa had said those things about Sam out of fear. I could forgive but I didn't think I could forget. She asked if there was any way she could make it up to me. I told her not to talk about Sam like that again. I started out my own company, hired a handful of guys and even started on some projects.

I invited Sarah to Cicero for Christmas. I didn't want her to be alone.

Sarah had moved away from Albany to a farm house in Montana, right between Helena and Butte.

Lisa and I gave Ben a puppy for Christmas, a golden retriever that he named Copper.

Sarah told me she was going to drive up to Anchorage on Boxing Day to see Sam. She had seemed subdued and I was worried about her.

After Christmas Eve dinner (that I had been obliged to make due to Lisa's delicate condition) Sarah and I stepped outside into the mild Indiana winter night.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Fine. Montana's nice; I like the peace and quiet there," Sarah smiled, "totally opposite of Albany."

She knew that was not really what I meant.

"You must think I'm being an inconvenience. I don't even know why I called Sam in the first place- I hadn't thought of him for years…I just called on a whim…I don't even know why I remembered you two," Sarah said without looking at me.

I shook my head, "I don't think of you as an inconvenience at all. I wasn't sure what to do with Sam but I knew I didn't want to be staying in one crappy motel after the other until the time came for us to act. The truth is: besides Bobby Singer, Sam and I don't really trust too many people, especially other hunters…I felt like I was taking a huge risk coming to see you- I thought you'd take one look at us and slam and bolt your door. I am very grateful that you let us stay with you when we were practically strangers…I told you about Sam's PTSD and you didn't even bat an eyelash and you even tried to help him," I was beginning to ramble a little but I needed to let Sarah know how I felt about her.

"You were really the first girl Sam connected with after Jessica…I mean, usually we go on a mission, do our job and leave without really getting to know the people we help (I guess you can't really, when you do what we do) but my brother actually had a conversation with you that didn't involve monsters or ghosts or demons…And you were brave, you wanted to help your friend…" Sarah nodded as I said that last part as though remembering the event so long ago it seemed as though it had happened to someone else.

"…Sam opened up to you… He wouldn't even tell Bobby about what happened to him in Hell…he had trouble telling me but he told you and that means a lot coming from him…" I sighed.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're not an inconvenience, you're practically family, you're like the little sister I never had," I said at last.

Sarah turned to me. Her eyes were dry, "thank you Dean." She walked over to me and gave me a sisterly peck on the cheek.

The rest of the evening and Christmas Day were more light-hearted. Sarah played with Ben and the puppy and chatted with Lisa, she was relieved I wasn't just taking pity on her. I keenly felt Sam's absence though: he should have been with us, not lying in a coma in some hospital miles away.

Sarah and I woke at six in the morning on Boxing Day to get a head start on our long drive up to Alaska. Sarah insisted we take her car so by six thirty we were speeding down the quiet roads in her little Audi.

We drove nonstop through to Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota…crossed the border into Canada and drove through the lower half of Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta and crossed almost lengthways through British Columbia into Juneau, Alaska.

We stopped at Cordova and then pressed on until we reached Anchorage. The entire trip took us nearly three days.

It would have been simpler and quicker just to call Abdiel and have him angel teleport Sarah and I to the hospital but we both agreed we could use the drive.

I grew nervous once Sarah and I entered the hospital in Anchorage, I don't know why, maybe it was the thought that Sam was still in a coma and he wouldn't even know we were there for him.

Sam had been moved from the ICU into a smaller room on the third floor. When Sarah and I entered the room I was surprised to see Abdiel there. The angel was sitting on an uncomfortable looking chair, humming to himself quietly.

The angel stood as we came inside. Sarah went right to Sam's side and sat down on an extra chair.

"Have you been here the whole time?" I asked the angel. He still had his hat and coat on even though the hospital was very warm.

"Well, not the whole time…" Abdiel said.

"You don't need to do this," I protested. I felt bad that the angel seemed to believe it was his duty to watch over my brother.

"I want to do this," Abdiel said, "I feel responsible for him."

I looked around the room uncomfortably. The room was that kind of fake cheerful you only find in hospitals with a lot of bright yellows and calming beiges.

I listened to Sarah talking to Sam even though we were sure he couldn't hear us. She spoke of the farm she had bought: a large house situated on the top of a natural hill to afford a good view of the surrounding prairie. Sarah told Sam how she had got the place really cheaply because the owners were older and they had three horses that needed to stay on the farm.

"The pasture is huge," Sarah said, "with a big tree in the middle- it's an oak tree. The horses are wonderful. There's a big old bay gelding and a little red mare and her colt."

I looked back to Abdiel, "what's happening Upstairs?"

Abdiel sighed, "We've won the battle but there's still going to be a war. Raphael and our side are at a stalemate. The fallen angels don't want anything to do with Raphael now that Lucifer's dead. Belial has gathered the many of the rebels to him. Some of them have just left, I don't know, maybe they're tired of fighting like Gabriel was, and some are coming to our side…It's all kind of muddled right now. Cas has his hands full just trying to tell friend from foe. I'm not much use with that sort of thing…I haven't been in Heaven for a while and I am more comfortable dealing with humans…I only helped Cas convince the other angels to our side because he asked."

I sighed. I wasn't sure what to say. Raphael just didn't want to give up that easily.

"You know my son is going to be born soon…" I began.

"Don't worry Dean. Cas and I have agreed that you are no longer involved," Abdiel said.

"Has there been any change in Sam?" I asked.

Abdiel shook his head.

"If I could wake him you know I'd do so in an instant," Abdiel said and I nodded.

A nurse hurried into the room. She was a petite thing with bushy mousy coloured hair and rather thick glasses.

"Oh, you must be Dean. Abel, I mean Mr. Ward, has told me so much about you," the nurse said and stepped forward to shake my hand.

Mr. Ward? Abel? I thought and then remembered that was what we called the angel.

"Carmen, I told you to call me Abel," Abdiel said and the nurse blushed.

Nurse Carmen turned to me, "Dr. Lau will want to talk to you. I'll go get him."

The nurse bustled out, giving Sarah a nod as she went.

Minutes later the tall Asian doctor entered and motioned for me to follow him outside. Sarah stood and looked expectant.

Dr. Lau looked at me and I nodded.

The three of us walked down the hall Dr. Lau turned to us with a grim expression on his face.

"I am terribly sorry to have to tell you this Mr. Winchester; Miss Winchester… due to circumstances beyond our control there is a very slim chance that your brother will ever regain consciousness. We have done all that is humanly possible for Sam, we have repaired his wounds to the best of our abilities but the trauma he suffered was too great," Dr. Lau spoke softly, slowly as if to children.

"Isn't there anything else you can do?" Sarah asked. I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

Dr. Lau shook his head, "the longer a person remains in a coma, the less chance there is of that person ever recovering."

I knew the doctor had doubts that Sam would recover when I first spoke to him but of course Dr. Lau didn't know Sam. Over the years Sam or I would get hurt but we'd always be back on our feet in no time, we were strong, we always got better…I guess I underestimated the factors this time. I should have known that Sam was far too weak, that Lucifer was too strong, that a Seraph Blade would be the weapon to lay my brother low. But I had asked God, practically begged Him not to let Sam die and although my brother was not technically dead, he might as well have been.

"Your brother will receive the best care if you wish for him to remain here or-" Dr. Lau began but I shook my head. I was not going to have this conversation.

I held up a hand to signal that I didn't want to talk anymore and the PA system called for Lau to go to the Emergency Room.

I watched the doctor rush off and turned to Sarah. The tears had overflowed and were coursing silently down her cheeks. I gripped her in a hug and felt her shake against me as she tried to stifle her emotions.

"I won't let this happen Sarah," I whispered, "I'll get Sam back, one way or another."

We walked slowly back to Sam's room. Sarah went to sit by my brother again. She held his hand in hers and with her free hand brushed some of his hair back from his forehead.

I went over to Abdiel and whispering, asked if there was, for certain, nothing he or any other angel could do for Sam.

Abdiel shook his head sorrowfully.

Sarah spoke up from her seat, "it just seems like you and Sam have cheated death so many times and now this…"

Without counting the time I had brought Sammy back to life by making a deal with a Crossroads demon, both Sam and I had seemed to have cheated death one way or another for so long I guess we forgot that we were still human and that eventually we would have to die…

I paused in my thought. Cheating death? Death? That was it!

"Abdiel, do you know where Death is?" I asked the surprised angel.

"Of course, mate, but why do you want to see him?" Abdiel asked, confused and curious at the same time.

"He owes me a favour," I said.

I walked over to Sarah.

"I need to go with Abdiel for a few minutes but I will be back and hopefully when I return Sam will be better," I said.

"Alright," Sarah held Sam's hand protectively.

I walked over to Abdiel and we went to find Death. The familiar sense of vertigo mixed with my anxiety to make me nauseous.

We appeared on the balcony of what I guessed was a restaurant. The climate was hot and kind of humid. Both Abdiel and I looked very out of place in our coats. I looked over the heads of the tourists to see if I could spot Death.

"Where are we anyway?" I asked the angel.

"Madrid, Spain."

I only saw men and women in dress clothes eating bread and cheese and sipping wine.

"Are you sure he's here?" I asked.

"I'm positive, mate. You can't see 'em but there's a whole lot of Reapers hanging about," Abdiel said.

That thought creeped me out slightly and I began walking past all the tourists, deeper into the restaurant.

Abdiel followed right behind me.

I caught sight of Death, sitting at the back of the place at a solitary table. I stepped forward and sat down in the seat across from him. The Horseman looked just the same as he did when I had seen him in that pizzeria. Abdiel remained standing, hands behind his back but his raptor gaze was pinned to Death.

The Horseman was decidedly unsurprised to see me. He didn't even look up from the newspaper he was reading (in Spanish) and sipped his espresso.

The Horseman did not speak so I cleared my throat. He folded the paper and set it on the table to one side and looked at me with a patient expression.

I fidgeted under Death's gaze, "I uh…I need a….favour from you…."

"I'm listening," Death said.

I gulped. I didn't know why I was so nervous. I had talked to him before.

"I need you to wake Sam up," I blurted out.

Death said nothing at first. He folded his hands in front of himself and looked at me with a serious expression.

"I cannot do that Dean," Death said with what I thought might be a touch of regret in his voice.

"Why not? I did what you said: I let Sam jump into Hell despite my better judgment. Sam was in Hell for eighteen months- that's one hundred and eighty years! He was tortured by the one creature who hated him the most because I did what you asked of me," I said.

"I know what happened to your brother in Hell and I am grateful to you both for making that difficult decision but I cannot help you," Death said and took a drink of espresso.

"You owe Sam; he saved your ass from Lucifer!" I said.

"I owe your brother nothing, Dean!" The Horseman snapped and I cringed back in my seat.

"He's not going to help us, mate. We should go," Abdiel said.

I ignored the angel.

"Please. The doctors say Sam will never wake up and the angels can't do anything," I didn't want to beg but I couldn't help myself.

Death's expression turned sympathetic.

"Dean, it is not as easy as you believe to make this work," Death said.

"What are you talking about? All you have to do is snap your fingers or whatever and wake Sam up like you're a hypnotist," I said.

The Horseman shook his head, "Sam is going to die, Dean. He is not going to live much longer."

I gaped.

"Sam is very weak, you know this, and he simply cannot remain alive. He will just slip away," Death said.

"But…but…" I stammered.

"Every living creature must die, Dean, and it is your brother's time. Every creature has only a limited amount of life within them and eventually it runs out, an expiry date if I may be so crude, and that date is fixed. You could have done things different a thousand times over but still Sam would die when he is scheduled to, just as you will when your time comes."

"When?" I managed to whisper.

"February fourth," Death answered.

The fourth of February, the date that Sam was to die, the date my son was due to be born. "Can't you do anything?" I asked.

Death sighed and sucked in a breath, "the bell has tolled for Sam."

"I like you Dean; I always have, so here is what I'll do. I will save your brother but to do so someone will have to take your brother's place," Death said.

I was greatly relieved, Sam would be alright.

"Okay, do whatever you have to do to save Sam," I said.

Death looked a little surprised that I was so willing to let someone else take Sam's place.

"I loathe impinging on the natural order of things; are you sure you want to do this Dean?" The Horseman asked and tented his fingers.

"Yes!" I said forcefully.

"You think I am being unfair for taking Sam away from you but it is really you who are being unfair. You would see a stranger's life taken from then prematurely so your brother can continue living. Does that not seem at all selfish to you? What if your brother is better off dead? Would you still feel the same about your decision?" The Horseman asked.

"Just wake Sam up!" I was not thinking rationally at all. I didn't care about some stranger I'd never meet, I cared about my brother.

Death stood, gathered his newspaper and walking stick, "after you."

"Can I just ask you one question?" I said timidly.

"Yes," Death said and paused.

"I asked God to let Sam live and, well, Sam isn't dead but he might as well be if he's never going to recover…I just wanted to know what was the point of God letting Sam live if you were going to take him in February anyway?" I wanted to know. I really didn't know what God was trying to get at by allowing Sam to live, albeit in a coma, for a few months and die without regaining consciousness.

"I am not so proud as to pretend to fathom the thoughts of God, Dean. Perhaps you needed to be more specific," The Horseman said and I couldn't stop my face from crumpling.

"It is likely that God was trying to play by the rules," Death said.

"Who's rules?" I asked.

"That is now two questions Dean," Death said.

I sighed; I just wanted to get back to Anchorage.

"My rules, Dean. God has been involved with humans less and less and He probably wished to grant your request but could not go against the natural order of things," Death said.

So God wanted to save Sam but He didn't want to fuck up Death's master plan…I thought that was a load of bullshit but I kept that to myself.

"C'mon Abdiel," I said and grabbed the angel's sleeve.

The angel and I appeared back in Sam's room what must have been maybe ten minutes since we had left.

Sarah looked up, "Dean! Abdiel!"

I looked around and Death swept into the room from the doorway.

Sarah looked up expectantly only to appear confused as she could only see Abdiel and I.

"Don't worry Sarah, we'll help Sam," I said and watched the Horseman approach my brother. I didn't know why I could see Death and Sarah could not, I figured Abdiel had something to do with it, a spell or something.

Death leaned over Sam's prone form. The Horseman raised Sam's free arm and stood there, concentrating as though checking my brother's pulse.

"Can you do it?" I asked.

"Of course I can 'do it' but I don't understand why you want to keep Sam alive after everything he's been through," The Horseman answered.

"Because he's my brother," I said.

Sarah sat by Sam's side, watching me talk to what she saw as thin air with a look of trepidation and confusion on her face.

"Are you doing this for Sam or for yourself, Dean?" Death asked.

I closed my eyes. I was doing this for Sam, so he could have some semblance of a normal life he never had.

"Just wake him up," I said and opened my eyes.

Death shrugged and placed the first two fingers of his left hand on Sam's forehead. The monitors in the room shrieked, I watched as the line on the heart monitor spiked dangerously.

The Horseman took his hand away and the monitors returned to their normal, steady rhythm. I looked expectantly at my brother, willing him to open his eyes but nothing happened.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"I am a Horseman, Dean, not a miracle worker," Death said.

"So…" I continued, looking at Death skeptically.

"Sam will wake up on the fourth of February," Death said.

"Can't you speed it up or something?" I didn't want Sam to be lying in the hospital bed in Alaska for another month.

"Take it or leave it Dean," Death said.

I raised my hands in surrender, "okay, okay."

"Now if you will excuse me, I have an appointment in South Africa I am already late for," Death said and walked out the door and down the hall, his black coat swishing behind him like a cape.

Sarah looked at me, wide-eyed.

"Is Sam going to be alright?" Sarah asked quietly.

"Yeah. He'll wake up on the fourth of February," I answered.

I sat down in the empty seat with a sigh. Sam is going to be alright, nothing else matters, I thought.

"Can I talk to you a minute, Dean?" Abdiel asked and I nodded.

We walked down the hall and stepped into an unoccupied room.

"Wot the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Abdiel turned to me. His bird of prey gaze was piercing.

"Saving Sam's life," I snapped.

"Sometimes you really are a prat, Dean!" Abdiel said.

"So all that guardian angel crap was just for show?" I asked. I folded my arms over my chest since I felt like punching the angel.

"Of course I want to save your brother but not like this," Abdiel answered.

"I didn't see you giving any suggestions," I replied.

"This isn't right Dean, it doesn't feel right-" I interrupted the angel.

"What's not right is the fact Sam loses everything, every time!"

"Would you just shut your gob and listen to me?" Abdiel moved forward until he was nearly toe to toe with me.

I raised my hands in surrender and backed up.

"I think something is wrong Dean, very wrong. I think it isn't that God wouldn't save your brother as you asked, but rather that He couldn't. I think something is up with Death as well. I think he'd refuse to save Sam even if you begged him on your knees because it would screw up his whole plan. Death simply does not trade one human's life for another- it is unheard of. Something big is going on and I think we should find out what that is," Abdiel said.

"You are free to investigate God and Death if you want but don't drag me into it. I'm done Abdiel. I have a family to think about now. How do you know something is up, anyway, God could just be being a dick and maybe Death has a soft spot for Sam and I," I answered.

"Alright Dean, I am sorry. Neither you nor Sam will be involved. This is probably better left to angels than humans anyway," Abdiel said.

I nodded.

"I had better go than. Cas may be able to help me with this," Abdiel paused for a moment and then said, "good luck."

The angel vanished and I was left by myself. I told myself not to worry about what Abdiel had said, it wasn't my concern anymore. The only things I had to worry about now were Lisa and the baby and Sam. I made my way back to Sam's room and told Sarah that Abdiel had gone back to Heaven. We stayed with Sam for a half hour more and then decided that we should go back home.


	11. Survive

Sarah and I drove back to Indiana slowly.

"Thank you Dean," Sarah whispered as we drove.

"Don't thank me," I answered.

Sarah didn't speak for a while. She was lost in thought and I didn't mind the silence.

When we were nearly back at Lisa's house Sarah spoke again.

"Everything's going to be alright, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think it is," I said and for the first time in a long time I actually believed it. I had a life with Lisa and Ben and a son to look forward to. Sam would wake up and he'd be able to have a happy, normal life that didn't involve monsters or demons or angels. Someone else could deal with all that from now on as far as I was concerned.

Sarah stayed for dinner and then left to go back to Montana.

Ben and I were washing the dishes while Lisa sat at the kitchen table. Sarah had wanted to stay and help clean up but I refused. She needed to go home. I knew that I would not be in Alaska on the fourth of February so by unspoken agreement Sarah would go up to Anchorage and call when Sam woke.

"Sarah is very nice," Lisa said from her seat.

"Yeah," I answered as I cleaned a plate and handed it to Ben to dry.

"Did the doctor's have good news about Sam?" Lisa said carefully.

"Dr. Lau says that Sam should come out of the coma any day now," I answered.

Lisa smiled gently, "that's good."

Ben looked up at me, "can he come visit when he's better?"

I caught Lisa's eye and told Ben that he should wait until Sam had recovered before we could think of inviting him for a visit.

When the dishes were finished I moved to help Lisa stand, her belly was quite large and she had a little trouble getting to her feet and moving around, "are you sure there aren't triplets in there?" I asked as Lisa stood and placed a hand against the small of her back.

"Dr. Burns said there was only one," Lisa said.

I smiled and we went into the living room to watch a movie together. Lisa and I sat on the couch, Ben laid flat on his stomach in front of the television and Copper tried to squeeze in between Lisa and me until we pushed him onto the floor with Ben.

January passed by pretty much uneventfully. Work was going well; it was nice to get back into the routine of it.

Bobby called early in the month to ask about Sam. I lied to the old hunter and said the doctors had told me that Sam would wake soon and make a full recovery. I didn't like lying to Bobby but I didn't want to start an argument with him about how I had asked Death to save Sam.

On the twenty-fourth Ben came down for breakfast with a brightly wrapped gift for me. I have to admit that I had been so preoccupied with work and anxious about the baby and Sam that I had completely forgotten about my birthday.

I unwrapped Ben's gift to find that it was a baseball mitt.

"What's this for?" I laughed.

"So you can teach me to play baseball," Ben said with mock sarcasm but with a grin plastered on his face.

I had to smile. During the previous year Ben had wanted so badly to try out for baseball but the coach said he just wasn't good enough. I would have helped him learn but then Sam came back and, well, the rest is history.

"Thanks Ben. As soon as I get home today we'll go out into the backyard and play," I said, much to the boy's excitement.

Next I opened Lisa's gift and was pleased to see a collection of Motorhead, AC/DC, Metallica and Led Zeppelin music all on CDs.

I loved my old cassettes but the truth was that they were getting old and no one made cassette players anymore.

"They're great, Lis" I said and stood to kiss her.

That evening I was as good as my word and spent nearly three hours after work helping Ben prepare for the baseball season coming in the spring.

After practicing with Ben we went inside. He went to finish his homework and I stared to make dinner.

Lisa had been sitting on the couch, watching some soap opera on the TV and when she heard me moving around the kitchen she came and sat on one of the chairs. Lisa sat watching me cut up vegetables for a while and then she spoke.

"Ben looks up to you, you know," she said quietly.

"I know," I answered, concentrating on chopping up a green pepper.

"Before you came I didn't know how I was going to raise Ben. I was a single mother and although I tried really hard to do the right thing, teach him respect and all that. I told myself I'd never be one of 'those' single mothers you hear about on the news who couldn't control their sons and the kids end up in jail…" Lisa said. I had no idea why she was telling me this so I said nothing, I just listened.

"It's really good for Ben to have a male influence in the house," Lisa said and I wasn't sure if she was finished. I went to the pantry and took out two jars of pasta sauce.

I heard Lisa give a watery sigh.

I turned around to see that she was trying hard not to start crying. I stopped what I was doing and went to her.

"What's wrong?" I asked. I crouched down so we were eye-level with each other.

Lisa laughed, embarrassed.

"You're going to think I'm pretty silly but I'm always worried that I'll wake up one morning and you'll be gone or that you'll get a phone call and have to leave," Lisa admitted.

"Hey…I'm not going anywhere. I'm retired from hunting, officially."

Lisa smiled and wiped her face with her sleeve, "I was never this emotional when I was pregnant with Ben."

The day after my birthday I drove back to Anchorage. I had Sam's duffel bag sitting beside me on the passenger seat of the pickup truck (the Impala had gone back into storage in the garage). It was only a matter of days before Sam would wake and I wanted to visit him one last time before that happened. The duffel was full of my brother's clothes because the one's he'd been wearing on November second ended up being covered in blood and unsalvageable. The only things that had managed to survive were Sam's sneakers and boxers and that silver chain Sarah had given him.

In the quiet hours that I spent driving to Alaska I had time to think about what Death had said. I had been avoiding thinking about the conversation I had had with the Horseman but now, with nothing to do but listen to music and no one to talk to I didn't have much of a choice.

I didn't consider myself to be the selfish prick Death and Abdiel apparently thought I was: I had lived without Sam for a year and a half and even though it was difficult, I got through it. I was doing this for Sam, so he could have that Happily-Ever-After ending I was getting.

So what if Death had to trade some stranger's life for Sam's? Everyone died eventually anyway so I didn't see a flaw in giving Sam someone else's life. I was not going to tell Sam what Death had done so my brother would be none the wiser.

Death had asked me if I thought being alive was the best thing for Sam, of course it was! Anything was better than being dead.

I was sure that Sam would wake up that upcoming day in February and be a hundred percent. Lucifer was dead and I was certain Sam wouldn't hunt any longer so I didn't see any fault to this.

I parked in the slick, snowy lot before the hospital and grabbed the duffel bag before jumping out of the truck.

It was freezing outside and I pulled the collar of my jacket up as I walked the short distance to the sliding doors of the hospital. I walked right past the nurse's station and took the elevator up to the floor where Sam's room was. The walk down the hall seemed very long even though it was only a few dozen steps to where Sam was lying comatose.

I went into Sam's room and put the duffel bag in the small closet that looked like it had come from IKEA. I sat on the available chair and looked at Sam's unconscious form. The poor kid was practically on life-support. If I wasn't sure Sam would wake up on the fourth, I'd think he was a goner for sure. Sam had stopped breathing a couple of days after Death had done his job and now he was hooked up to a ventilator thing with a tube down his throat. Sam's complexion was pale and his forehead was beaded with sweat, causing his hair to stick to his brow.

What if Sam dies before the fourth? I thought. Is Death's work rendered void?

I didn't think so but still, seeing Sam like that made me nervous.

"You just have to hang in there until the fourth, okay?" I said, leaning forward in the chair.

On February third I went to bed with a ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach. I was anxious and worried about the baby and I was full of trepidation about Sam. I was worried that Death would not keep his promise and my brother would die. I worried that something had gone wrong when Sam had killed Lucifer. A thousand ideas regarding Sam kept popping into my head, each one less pleasant than the one previously.

I was woken up at 1:17 on the fourth by Lisa shaking my shoulder.

I immediately sat up.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"We need to go to the hospital," Lisa whispered.

I said nothing but stood and got dressed in some decent clothes while Lisa went to wake Ben; we were going to send him to Clara's until we got back from the hospital.

I grabbed the bag of prepared items that Lisa had packed for the occasion. It was a large TNA bag that contained a book, a comfortable pair of clothes and other miscellaneous things Lisa said she'd need for her stay at the hospital.

We walked to the neighbors' house and dropped Ben off with heartfelt thanks to Clara for doing this for us. Ben was upset that he couldn't come to the hospital with us even though we said he might be sitting in the waiting room for a long, long time.

I got Lisa comfortably into the passenger seat of the Impala (it was easier to get into and out of than the truck). I started the car and drove down the street only a little over the speed limit.

I was very calm. I have heard that new Dad's are usually nervous wrecks when their kids are going to be born but I guessed all my training as a hunter allowed me to keep a cool, rational head.

We got to the hospital in Patterson and I rushed to the nurses' station.

"My girlfriend's in labor," I said.

"Alright," a rather tall and skinny nurse said and sent two male orderlies to help Lisa into a wheelchair and bring her inside.

I walked along beside Lisa as the orderlies handed her over to a rotund, scowling nurse who wheeled Lisa down the hall and into an empty room.

The nurse and I helped Lisa onto a bed and the nurse left us alone.

Lisa had told me that we might be in for a long wait.

I sat down on an available chair. Lisa reached out her hand and I took it.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Alright," Lisa said and grimaced in pain from a contraction.

Seconds later the large nurse returned and shooed me out of the way so she could help Lisa change into a hospital gown, pulling the curtain closed.

"This your first?" I heard the nurse ask in a surprisingly high-pitched, motherly voice.

"Second," Lisa replied.

"I've got three, myself. Boy or girl?" The nurse said.

"Boy," I head Lisa say with a smile.

The curtain slid back and Lisa was sitting up in bed again.

"I've got some paperwork for you two to fill out while you're waiting. Nurse Wettstein has already phoned Dr. Burns and he's on his way now," The nurse left us again.

I noticed that Lisa had one of those plastic hospital bracelets around her wrist already. I guessed they worked fast when it was a slow early-morning shift.

Lisa and I filled out the paperwork. We waited and waited. Dr. Burns appeared, checked Lisa and left again after saying that Lisa wasn't ready yet.

We waited and waited and waited.

1:30 changed to 1:50, 2:25, 2:45….

I checked my phone every couple of minutes. I was willing Sarah to call me. She had gone up to Anchorage once again on the second and I was nervous to hear news of Sam.

"Dean, put your phone away," Lisa said.

I shoved the cell phone in my pocket after I put it on vibrate.

At 3:30 Dr. Burns returned and recommended giving Lisa something to speed the labour up. Lisa looked at me and I said that it was up to her. Lisa said she wanted the shot.

At 4:30 Lisa was wheeling into another room that was prepared for her so she could give birth. I just followed everybody else. I felt kind of useless.

Dr. Burns and a team of nurses surrounded Lisa. I stood beside her while she crushed my hand every time a contraction came.

"Okay Lisa, when I say 'go' I need you to push as hard as you can," Dr. Burns said from the other end of the bed.

"Okay," Lisa said and nodded, already breathless from the pain of the contractions.

It seemed as if everyone in the room held their breath and then Dr. Burns said 'go'.

Lisa's grip on my hand tightened significantly as she did as the doctor instructed. She gave a muffled scream of pain as she pushed twice more as the doctor ordered.

Minutes that seemed like hours passed and nothing happened. I watched as Dr. Burns looked up worriedly at Lisa and whispered something to a nurse.

"What's going on?" I asked but the doctor ignored me.

"What's wrong?" Lisa asked in a frightened voice.

"We need you to relax Lisa. The baby is backwards, we need to turn him around," Dr. Burns answered.

Shit, I thought and watched the doctor and nurses work to fix the problem. Lisa had a death-grip on my hand.

"It'll be okay Lisa, this sort of thing happens all the time," I said, "everything will be fine."

I don't think I breathed as the doctor and nurses seemed to take a very long time to get things right again.

Just when I was really beginning to worry, Dr. Burns said "There! Now push, Lisa."

Lisa pushed and the doctor ordered her to do so again.

"Again, Lisa. You're almost there," Dr. Burns said.

Lisa obeyed.

"Once more. You're doing great," Burns said.

I felt Lisa digging her nails into my hand as she pushed and all of a sudden it was all over.

Dr. Burns handed my son to one of the nurses to be cleaned off and he left the room.

I looked down at Lisa, she was exhausted but happy.

I checked my watch. It was exactly five forty-five in the morning.

A nurse returned with our baby, swaddled in a blue blanket.

I helped Lisa sit up and the nurse handed her the bundle.

Lisa gently pulled down the blanket and we looked at our son.

He was unbelievably unremarkable, like any other newborn baby: pink-skinned and wrinkled.

The baby yawned widely. I couldn't help but grin. I felt tears well up in my eyes. I could hardly believe that this tiny baby was my son.

"Hello, Samuel James Winchester," Lisa whispered.

A nurse came to take our son to the nursery and I left the room to let Lisa get some rest.

I went and got some coffee from the machine and sat down in the empty waiting room.

I had just had a sip of nearly-scalding coffee when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I almost dropped the Styrofoam cup before setting it down by my feet and grabbed my phone.

"Hello?" I answered.

"It's Sam…he's awake!" Sarah's happy voice said from the other end.

"That's awesome. How is he?" I picked up the cup and sipped the drink.

"He's a little disoriented but Dr. Lau said that's to be expected. He'll need physiotherapy because the muscles in his legs have started to atrophy but that should only take a couple of months," Sarah said.

"Okay," I said. Sam was going to be alright. Death had come through for us.

"Did Lisa have the baby yet?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, we're naming him Samuel James," I answered.

"Sam'll be happy to hear that," Sarah said.

There was a pause, not awkward but one in which we didn't know what to say to one another at that moment.

"I'd better get back and check on Sam," Sarah said finally.

"Keep me updated," I said and closed my phone.

I let out a sigh of relief. For once everything was going right for Sam and me. I sat back in the chair and relished the moment. Luck was on our side and maybe it would stay that way. I felt almost giddy at the knowledge of having a son. Right now it seemed the most incredible thing to me. I saw my future: with Lisa, Ben and now Samuel James as a real family. I had my own contracting company and didn't for a second wish I could be hunting again. I was happy that Sam had been given a second chance. That he'd be able to have the normal life he should have had, would have had if it hadn't been fucked up so long ago. Sam could finish school and marry and have kids and not have to think about hunting or monsters or any of that shit any longer.


	12. Where Do We Go From Here

Facing Lucifer again was like living one of my nightmares. I knew Dean believed that I would win, that I'd kill the Devil but I had doubts. I was not as strong as I had been the last time I had taken on Lucifer, demon blood or no. My brother insisted that I wouldn't have to drink the stuff this time… that we would be victorious. I was grateful; the thought of going down that road again turned my stomach, even as some part of me craved it still. I feared Lucifer. I was not afraid to die; I had done so many times before it didn't seem to matter anymore. I was afraid I would lose; I was afraid that Lucifer would be too strong and overpower me. I was afraid of being made to watch as he tortured and killed my loved ones. Lucifer would punish them; Dean and Bobby and Sarah would pay for helping me. I didn't doubt that if Lucifer could catch Abdiel and Cas that he would kill them too. I feared becoming a slave to that creature whose hate of me seemed unquenchable.

Lucifer was Lucifer, even in the guise of a teenage girl. He was the same monster I'd known in Hell. When he spoke of Hell I wanted to close my eyes and run away but I didn't dare look away from him. He spoke so Dean would know how weak I really was. Lucifer wanted Dean to know just how close he had come to breaking me. I had not told my brother that I had come very close to losing my sanity while in Hell; I did not want to see what Dean's reaction would be if I ever told him about it.

The Devil had grinned as he spoke; he enjoyed the chance to humiliate me in from of Dean. I just wanted it to end. I just wanted to have peace.

This time when I said 'yes' I was prepared. I knew that as soon as I spoke Lucifer would try to take control immediately.

I used all my strength to push Lucifer out of the way, to keep control. I knew I had seconds to spare, Lucifer was very strong.

I called out to Dean and my brother hesitated.

What are you doing Sam? Lucifer asked, half amused half angry at my attempt to maintain in control.

I didn't answer. I needed to concentrate on what needed to be done. I grabbed the Seraph Blade from Dean's outstretched hand. My brother was staring wide-eyed at me.

You little shit! Lucifer had seethed as I clutched the weapon in my hands.

Now it was my turn to hesitate and Lucifer nearly won. I fell onto my knees as my strength quickly waned. I took a moment to tell Dean not to look at what I was about to do.

I turned the point of the Blade toward myself and took a breath. I didn't utter any epic one-liners, I am sure Lucifer knew exactly how I felt about him. I stabbed myself with the Blade I gasped in pain and began to panic that something was not right. Nothing happened for a few seconds. I was gripped with a fear that it had not worked.

Then Lucifer screeched in pain and the world spun wildly around me. I slumped to the ground as consciousness left me.

I woke slowly. I opened my eyelids a crack. A blinding white light stung my eyes. My vision was blurred. Every muscle in my body seemed to ache and I felt weak. I heard a rhythmic beeping and a sort of swooshing sound in the background but I could not figure out what they were. My throat and mouth felt like sandpaper. I couldn't form a coherent thought. What was happening? I closed my eyes and paused until I could think straight. Where was I? The only thing I remembered was waking up, nothing before this. What was going on? Who am I? What am I?

"Sam?" I heard a sound but the word, if it was a word, meant nothing to me. I was so confused.

Through my nearly-closed eyes I saw a dark shape hovering over me. I felt frightened, what did the shape want? I couldn't move and I was helpless against it.

"Sam?" the sound again. That sound felt important. I thought I had heard it before. What are you trying to tell me?

Something clicked in my mind and I realized why the shape kept saying that word- it was a name- it was my name!

I forced my eyes to open all the way and the blurry, fuzzy shape of a woman came into view. She had long, black hair pinned up and a concerned, though happy look on her face.

I tried to ask her what had happened but I didn't know how.

"I'll get the doctor," the woman said and stood.

What was a doctor? My head was spinning and I couldn't concentrate. The woman moved away and I wished I could call out to her. I didn't want her to leave; I had the idea that if she walked away I would never see her again. I blinked, despite the harsh light and my vision cleared considerably.

I looked around but did not understand what I was seeing. Rectangles of light shone down among rectangles of dull white above me, strange objects that with round and square colours on them surrounded me- one had a screen with a green line that moved up and down evenly. I closed my eyes but opened them again when I heard the woman… speaking, I thought, she's speaking to someone.

There were two others with the woman now. A smaller woman with curly brown hair and a man in a bright, white coat. Could this be the doctor?

The man stared at me, his eyes wide.

"He just woke up a couple of minutes ago, Dr. Lau," the dark-haired woman said.

The doctor shook his head and walked toward me.

He held a small light and shone it in my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut. I tried to pull away when the man lifted up one eyelid gently, still shining the light.

"His pupils are reacting normally," the man said and stepped away.

The curly-haired woman looked at the screen with the green line, "heart rate is a little elevated but not dangerously so."

I looked at the dark-haired woman with a pleading expression. What were they going to do to me?

"Would it be safe to take out the breathing tube?" the dark-hair woman asked the doctor.

My heart began to beat faster, what was she talking about?

"I think it can be left until the morning, I want to make sure he can breathe on his own without it," the doctor said.

I watched in silence as the three continued to speak and then the doctor and the curly-haired woman left in a hurry.

The dark-haired woman stayed and… sat down in a…. chair. She smiled at me and took hold of my hand in one of hers.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them again it was very bright in the room. The high white light mixed with golden light. I supposed this is what the doctor had called 'morning'. The woman was still in the chair but this time she had a pale cylinder in her hand and every so often she would bring it to her mouth. I tried desperately to figure out what it was. I knew I knew what it was but I couldn't find the right word.

The woman saw me looking and smiled again.

"Hey, Sam," she said quietly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Did she want me to answer? I just looked at her. I realized now that her face looked familiar but once again I couldn't figure it out.

"Dr. Lau's going to come soon and get that tube for you," the woman said and put the cylinder to her mouth again.

I tried to understand what was going on. I tried to put a name to the woman and the place where I was. Very slowly, the answers came. The white rectangles above me were called 'lights' and they were in a 'ceiling'. The cylinder was a 'cup' and the yellow light was from the 'Sun'.

The doctor came back with a different woman this time. This woman was tall and dark-skinned.

"How's Sam this morning?" the doctor asked my dark-haired woman.

"It's almost like he's trying to understand where he is," my dark-haired woman answered.

The doctor bobbed his head, "it's only natural that he'll be confused."

The doctor and dark-skinned woman approached me.

I remained as still as possible as the doctor and the woman did what they'd come to do- take out the tube.

I closed my eyes in pain as the woman gently pulled the tube out of my throat. The doctor and woman paused and watched the beeping squares and the green line- I didn't know what they were looking for but they seemed relieved and smiled at the dark-haired woman.

"I'm Doctor Lau. You are in a hospital. You were in a coma. Do you understand me?" The doctor asked, speaking slowly.

It took me a long, frustrating minute to figure out the words. What was a hospital? What was a coma?

I tried to move, to sit up, to do something but my limbs would not respond. I couldn't make a sound except for a low whine- I couldn't speak!

Panic crept up. What if I was like this forever!

I looked at the dark-haired woman and the Doctor fearfully.

"Dr. Lau, he… looks frightened," the woman said and the doctor peered at me, realizing I was trying to sit up.

"Don't worry, Miss Winchester, this is all normal for someone just waking up from a coma."

"We'll get a physiotherapist in here, probably by this afternoon and pretty soon Sam will be able to communicate," the doctor said.

He and the dark-skinned woman moved to the doorway, "talk to him. Help jog his memory, most likely he doesn't really know what's going on or where he is- help him understand."

The doctor and woman left.

The woman, Miss Winchester, the doctor had called her, looked at me and began talking.

I slowly remembered what had happened. More and more I remembered the names for things and then I suddenly realized that the dark-haired woman's name was Sarah Blake. I grinned happily and Sarah Blake looked at me quizzically. I remembered I had an older brother named Dean. I remembered what he looked like: short light-brown hair, cocky grin and hazel eyes.

Soon though, darker memories surfaced.

I recalled a cemetery and a girl with red hair. I remembered a knife… no, it wasn't just a knife… a Seraph Blade, I recalled the pain I had felt when I had stabbed myself with the Seraph Blade. Why would I do something like that?

I frowned. While this was happening, the physiotherapist had been moving my limbs, trying to get them to work again.

The therapist, a young man with dark blond hair and dark brown eyes, looked up as he moved my elbow up and down.

"Does that hurt?" he asked.

I shook my head. Sarah Blake had left- she said she was getting something to eat.

I wanted to know what had happened. I wanted to know why I had been in a coma- I understood that it was like being asleep but without waking up.

I tried to focus on the girl with red hair. Something about her was not right. I tried to remember but couldn't. I sighed and watched the physiotherapist as he worked.

As evening crept closer my memories were coming faster and faster all the time- as if someone had released a floodgate in my mind. I now knew everything that had happened to me before the coma, the good and the bad. I remembered who exactly I was.

"What happened to me?" I said out loud, my voice barely a whisper.

I looked at Sarah for an answer.

"You did it Sam. You beat the Devil," Sarah said.

It seemed odd to think that Lucifer was dead.

"What….what happened… after?" I asked.

"You were in a coma. For three months," Sarah said.

Why was I alive? Seraph Blades killed angels and their vessels. I didn't think it was possible to survive a wound from one of those angelic weapons.

"Where's Dean?"

"He had to go back to Indiana. The baby was born early this morning. Dean sounded so happy," Sarah said and turned her head so I couldn't see her face.

"Where is Abdiel?"

"In Heaven I guess," Sarah shrugged apologetically, "that's what Dean told me."

Curiously, I felt tired, so I slept for a few hours. Early the next morning Doctor Lau returned and told me that I couldn't leave the hospital just yet. I needed a lot of physiotherapy and he wanted to make sure there was no permanent damage done from the wound in my abdomen or the lengthy coma.

Dean called later that day and I spoke to him. He sounded relieved. He told me he'd try and get up to Anchorage before I left the hospital. He told me how his son was named Samuel James. I smiled at the fact that Dean had gone through with the idea of naming his child after me.

Sarah stayed with me while I recovered. I was unwavering in my decision to leave Anchorage before the predicted two months and worked with an almost fierce determination. The therapist, I later learned his name was Lane, seemed impressed by my efforts to leave early. I did the exercises long after our sessions were over. I did not want to stay in the hospital any longer than absolutely necessary.

At the end of February, Dr. Lau said he didn't see any reason why I couldn't go home in early March.

Dean came to see me a couple of days before I left the hospital. Sarah and I were walking down the hall when my brother came into view. He waited until we made our way to him.

"You look good, Sam" Dean said and hugged me tightly.

"You look like you're doing well too, Dean. How's fatherhood suiting you?" I asked.

Dean smiled.

"S.J. is just amazing…I know he's only a few weeks old but I can't get over how great he is," Dean paused and chuckled.

Sarah smiled a kind of wistful smile and I knew she must be thinking about kids of her own.

"Sam gets out of the hospital in a few days. Maybe you can bring Lisa and Ben and S.J. out to Montana for a visit soon?" Sarah said.

Dean nodded, "I'll look forward to it."

Dean didn't stay long: he needed to get back to his work and help Lisa take care of the new baby.

I was glad the Dean was doing well with his contracting company. He was moving forward but it felt as though my life was at a standstill.

I had no idea where my life was headed. I had told Dean I had wanted to go back to school and become a lawyer, but, late at night when all was quiet in the hospital and Sarah was curled up in a chair fast asleep I had time to think about my future. I would still have a year and a half of college left to get my Bachelor of Law and then I would need to take three more years to go through law school and earn my Masters of Law and Doctorate of Juridical Science…and find a job after all that…

Before everything happened I was prepared for the hard work that it would take to become a lawyer but now it seemed very daunting to me. I really didn't think I'd be able to handle going back to school, being a student again seemed trivial to me now… I was a different person as well, I knew I had changed and I didn't think I'd be able to take the pressure. But I didn't want to be useless either. If I was going to spend the rest of my life with Sarah then I had to do something. When I thought about what I could do, though, I drew a blank.

I had discussed the issue with Sarah and she said all I needed to worry about right now was getting better. That was alright in the short-term but not for the long-term.

"What am I supposed to do? I can't be unemployed for the rest of my life," I asked her one morning after a bland breakfast of hospital food.

"You do what you feel is right for you," Sarah told me.

I made a face, "that doesn't really help, you know."

"My antiques and art are selling really well because of all the people passing through town and I still have a lot of money from my father's will," Sarah answered.

I sighed. I wanted to do something to help Sarah out but she was being so passive it was difficult to get clear answer from her.

I felt depressed that I didn't really know how to do much else than hunt.

The day I left the hospital dawned very cold and snowy. Dr. Lau insisted on checking me over one last time before leaving. The only evidence to show that I had been injured at all was a jagged, red scar just above my navel. Other than that I had recovered quite well, the doctor had said. My limbs were still a little sore and stiff from the months of inactivity but Lane said that it would go away. I was happy to change out of the hospital clothes and into some of my own.

On the long drive to Sarah's new ranch house in Montana she told me about the town, called Petite. The town had been founded by a French immigrant named Claude Sainte- Antoine in the late eighteen nineties and had been a booming place until the Depression of the nineteen-thirties when many of the farmers left to find jobs in the cities. Now the town was still quite small: it only had a post-office, a grocery store, a hardware store and an old movie theatre. If any of the nearby farmers wanted something the town didn't have they would drive to Butte or Helena. With so many of the stores closed, Sarah had had her pick of the one in which to sell the antiques. Sarah told me it was a large building, between the City Hall and the hardware store. Sarah told me that the front of the store was all glass so she could easily display the painting, furniture, etc.

There was an old wooden desk along one wall and an ancient cash register. There was a big room off the main area that Sarah used to store the other antiques. Sarah had decided to call her store The Gallery.

The town of Petite was surrounded by old farms and a hill covered landscape with few trees. The driveway of the farmhouse was simply a long dirt road that appeared suddenly out of the pot-holed main road. There was a pasture with three horses in it and a large tree in the field to provide the animals with shade.

The house itself really was a farmhouse. It was a two storey building of wood and stone nestled beside a large barn.

"Don't worry Sam, it has heating and plumbing," Sarah smiled at the wary expression that came over my face as I saw the house for the first time.

A wide porch was splayed out before the house so its inhabitants could enjoy the clear, star filled night sky or entertain guests on a humid summer afternoon.

The first floor interior of the house had been redone so the timber and stones were hidden; the walls were painted a pale grey-green colour. The floor was wooden, stained a deep golden hue. A wood-burning fireplace took up one wall in the living room. On top of a grey area rug sat or rather squeezed the dark brown couch and four matching chairs I recognized from Albany. A forty-two inch flat screen TV sat above the fireplace mantel. A dark green Laz-E Boy chair comfortably took up one corner of the room. I stepped further into the living room and saw a dark-stained wooden coffee table with a couple of art books sitting on top of it.

The kitchen had white ceramic tiles covering the floor, whitewashed cupboards with plain silver handles, a faux black marble countertop and a brand new refrigerator, dishwasher and range that had also come from New York. A small area in the middle of the kitchen had a wooden table and four chairs sitting around it. There was a window above the sink that showed a good view of the pasture and the driveway. There was a small half-bathroom with a sink and toilet just off the kitchen.

The second floor of the house had a large master bedroom, a large bathroom with a standing shower and a bathtub, two smaller extra bedrooms and a large open area that Sarah thought could be turned into a guest bedroom or something like that.

Sarah had followed beside me, silent, as I toured the house.

We made our way back to the kitchen and Sarah put some coffee in the maker to brew.

I had no idea what the house had looked like before Sarah had moved in so I had to ask her, "did you do all this?" I waved one hand in the general direction of the kitchen area and the living room behind us.

"No. The previous owners were advised to do some repairs to the house and update some things to make it sell more easily. I just brought the furniture and appliances up here," Sarah answered.

"It looks really great, Sarah," I said and smiled.

Sarah smiled back and poured out two mugs brimming with black coffee.

When we finished the coffee, Sarah took me out to meet the horses. I was nervous about this; I had never been this close to the animals as we leaned against the fence rails. Sarah had brought three apples from the crisper with her and the horses came over immediately at the sign of a snack.

The red mare and her chestnut colored foal came over first.

The mare put her face very close to mine and flared her nostrils. I remained very still, wondering if horses, like dogs, could sense fear.

"Hey, Ginger, have this," Sarah held the apple out on her flat palm and the horse plucked the fruit nimbly and munched happily away.

The chestnut foal, Duncan, eyed me with a mischievous look on his long face. He whinnied loudly and pushed against Ginger so he could get in front of Sarah so she could give him an apple.

Sarah leaned forward and tousled Duncan's forelocks. She gave him the second apple and both mare and foal ran away to stand beneath the tree and look smug.

The large bay gelding came plodding over with a placid expression.

"Here Sam," Sarah handed me the last apple.

The gelding, named Marlowe gazed down at me with one dark amber eye.

I held the apple out the horse in my flattened palm. I was surprised at how gentle the animal was when he picked up the fruit and began eating it very slowly.

Still slightly nervous I reached out and put one hand on the horse's long nose. I could feel the strong bones beneath the velvety covering of fur. It was strange, after facing all sorts of monsters and even the Devil himself, I was nervous around some horses.

Marlowe remained where he was, even after the apple was gone, apparently enjoying having his nose patted.

Sarah smiled at me, "you're a natural."

Sarah's parents had sent her to riding classes when she was a girl so she knew quite a lot about horses.

When Marlowe had had enough he turned around, showing us his dusky tail and sauntered to the far end of the pasture.

Sarah and I drove into town that afternoon and she introduced me to the locals she was friendly with.

I met a group of old farmers who seemed as if they spent their entire day hanging around the barber shop. I met the owner of the hardware store, a red-cheeked, round man named Ralph.

"We don't get many folks moving into Petite, mostly folks leave when they're old enough to get the sense to," Ralph had chuckled good-naturedly from over the counter brimming with thirty different types of nails displayed under glass.

I was greeted by the local police sheriff, a slightly erratic man named, Coombs, who had slipped out of the station to get some lunch.

Most of the locals Sarah and I met glanced at us with barely hidden looks of curiosity or disapproval. I knew that people from small towns didn't like newcomers and mainly kept to their own.

"Tomorrow I'll introduce you to the Meyers' and the Addisons'," Sarah spoke of our nearest neighbors to the left and right.

Sarah and I had canned chicken noodle soup and tuna sandwiches for dinner. Sarah apologized for the crappy 'Welcome Home' dinner but I told her it was one of the best I had ever had. I wasn't lying either, anything was better than that tasteless hospital food.

That evening Sarah and I watched some movie on the TV, I think it was that one with Bruce Willis and that kid who can see ghosts. At midnight we went to bed. I lay awake, restless but not sure why.

Sarah was curled up beside me fast asleep and I wished I could just shut everything out and crash for hours like she could.

Eventually my eyes slid closed and I drifted to sleep…

Sarah and I were walking in a park, possibly Central Park. We were holding hands as we strolled down the asphalt pathway, past joggers and dog walkers and business men and women sitting on benches eating fast food lunches.

It was a warm and sunny day; pigeons flew around in hopes of a dropped morsel. I looked at Sarah and she had never been more beautiful. She was smiling, her happiness making her even more radiant. She was wearing a pair of moss green corduroy pants, black flats and a black t-shirt. Her black hair was tangled and wind-blown but it shone like silk in the sunlight. Her grey eyes were warm and liquid.

We walked a bit more in companionable silence when an icy gust of wind made me stop.

It was the middle of a summer afternoon, there was no reason for that cold wind.

I shrugged and continued walking. The day grew overcast quickly; the light and color appeared washed-out and pale.

A second freezing breeze passed over me and I shivered.

"What's wrong Sam?" Sarah asked.

"Nothing," I said.

The temperature dropped, raising goose bumps on my skin. I released Sarah's hand and rubbed my arms to warm up.

We had stopped walking now and I noticed that the two of us appeared to be alone.

Sarah didn't seem to notice how cold it was, she was looking at me with a confused expression.

"Let's go," I said and took a few steps forward.

I looked behind myself and saw that Sarah had not moved.

She was staring at me with a callous grin.

"Sarah?" I asked, confused now.

"Try again," Sarah said and her grin widened as flakes of snow began to fall from the darkened sky.

"No, it's not possible." I said, stunned.

The smile widened inhumanly until Sarah looked like the Cheshire Cat.

"Let her go, you son of a bitch," I snarled.

"Whatever you say," Sarah said and there was a blinding flash of light.

I turned away to shield my eyes but quickly looked back when I heard Sarah give a weak cry.

She was lying on her back on the cold ground. She was very pale and terrified looking.

"It's okay Sarah, I'm right here," I knelt down and took Sarah's hand. It was very warm.

"Sam?" Sarah's asked. Her eyes were unfocused.

Something was wrong.

I felt someone's presence beside me and I looked up to see the red-headed girl Lucifer had possessed before I killed him (or thought I had).

"What did you do to her?" I demanded.

Lucifer grinned down at me.

I turned my attention back to Sarah, her face was covered in sweat and she was panting for breath.

"Sarah? Sarah!" I said loudly but she made no indication that she could hear me.

Sarah's face contorted in pain and she raised her free hand- it was aflame as if she had coated it in gasoline and taken a match to it.

I jumped backwards as Sarah burst into flame as if she was spontaneously combusting. Sarah gave a blood-curdling scream as she burned.

The stench of burning flesh and hair filled the air and I gagged. I heard Lucifer giggle beside me and I wanted to throw up.

In minutes the flames had consumed Sarah and all that was left was a pale smudge of ash on the pavement.

I didn't care that Lucifer was there; I wept with grief. I doubled over in my crouched position and sobbed.

I don't know how long I remained like that until Lucifer stepped before me and crouched down so he was facing me. The red-haired girl placed two fingers beneath my chin and lifted my head so I was staring at her, tears still streaming down my face.

"When will you learn that you cannot kill me, Sam Winchester? When will you realize that you will lose every time, no matter what your actions? No matter what road you take?" Lucifer said. The girl had an almost compassionate look in her eyes.

"It's not true," I whispered, gulping down air.

"I am afraid it is so," Lucifer said. The girl's expression was serious, no malicious humor in it.

A bone chilling gust of wind caused me to gasp and I closed my eyes. Now I heard Lucifer chuckling and I shivered in fear…

"Sam! Sam, wake up!" Sarah's alarmed voice brought me back to consciousness.

I blearily opened my eyes.

Sarah was peering down at me with a look of concern.

"Are you alright? You were muttering in your sleep and crying," Sarah said and I reached out to feel warm moisture on my cheeks.

"It was just a nightmare," I said. I sat up and pushed my hair from my forehead. I saw that it was only two in the morning.

"Do you need anything?" Sarah asked from behind me.

"No…I think I should call Bobby," I said and grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand and punched in the old hunter's number.

The phone rang three times and I wasn't sure if Bobby was going to answer when I heard the hunter grumble a greeting on the other end.

"Yeah?" Bobby growled.

"Bobby, it's Sam," I whispered. I don't know why I kept my voice low, Sarah was sitting just behind me and no one was likely to listen in on our conversation.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked.

"I uh, I need you to write me out a prescription like the one before… and send it to me," I stammered. Now that I was more awake the nightmare I had had seemed kind of stupid. Lucifer was dead, he had to be- there was no way he could survive being stabbed with his own Seraph Blade. The dream was probably caused by stress.

"Alright, I'll write the prescription but I'll do better than just send it, I'll hand it to you myself," Bobby answered. I knew he'd most likely want to speak to me face-to-face. Besides, I hadn't seen the old hunter since November second and no doubt he was tired of updates from Dean on my condition. Come to think of it, why had Bobby not come up to Alaska? He was probably busy, that's it.

"Thanks Bobby, I owe you one," I said and Bobby grumbled, "Yeah, you do" and hung up on his side.

I set the phone back on the nightstand and stood up. I didn't feel like sleeping anymore.

I looked down at Sarah, she was wearing a yellow pajama set with bananas on it, her hair was messy and frizzy, her face puffy with sleep.

"You go back to bed. I'm not really tired," I told her.

Sarah looked at me for a moment and then said something that she hadn't said before.

"I love you," She whispered and laid back down on the bed, pulling the covers halfway up her chest.

I paused, a little surprised. I knew Sarah cared for me deeply and I for her but we had never actually articulated our feelings like that before.

"Love you too," I answered and padded silently out of the bedroom.

I went downstairs into the living room and sat on the Laz-E Boy recliner. I thought about my dream, not the content but about the fact that I had had such a dream. When I was in the hospital I hadn't had any dreams, at least none that I remembered, and now this comes out of the blue. I guessed that just because Lucifer was dead didn't mean that the Post-Traumatic Stress would go away. And Lucifer was dead, that's what I kept telling myself as I sat in the chair, staring at the dark shapes of furniture around me. Lucifer was dead and gone, I had killed him, he was dead…

I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes, golden light slanted through the windows to paint the hardwood floor the colour of honey, I watched as minute motes of dust floated through the shafts of light.

I heard Sarah coming down the stairs and looked up to see her wrapped in her fuzzy blue housecoat and matching slippers. She had brushed her hair and now it lay in loose waves on her shoulders.

I stood and we both walked into the kitchen.

Sarah poured coffee grounds into the maker and turned it on.

She didn't ask me how I was feeling, if I was okay, which I appreciated, I couldn't stand people, especially Dean, asking me if I was alright.

Instead, Sarah inquired as to whether I would like bacon and eggs or toast and jam for breakfast.

I had had enough of toast from my stay at the hospital in Anchorage to last me a lifetime so I chose the former instead of the latter.

I insisted on helping Sarah make breakfast, I wasn't just going to sit around and watch while she worked. We came to a compromise, though, Sarah was in charge of the coffee and eggs and I was to look after the bacon and set the table.

After eating, we put all the dishes into the dishwasher and walked out to barn where the horses were.

"When will Bobby get here?" Sarah asked. She had never met the old hunter and she must have been looking forward to it.

"Sixteen or eighteen hours," I answered.

We let the horses out into the pasture. Ginger and Duncan ran into the field at full-tilt but Marlowe lagged behind. He turned his intelligent, amber gaze on me and huffed a sigh.

"I think you've made a new friend, Sam," Sarah laughed as Marlowe pushed his large nose into my hand so I could pet him.

`I smiled and stroked the gelding's long nose for a good five minutes before the horse turned and walked into the field.

Later that morning Sarah and I drove the dozen miles down to where the Meyers family had their dairy farm.

Their family had owned the farm for nearly seven generations and it looked like their kids, teenage boys, were willing to continue working on the family farm.

The Meyers were Ernie and Lydia and their sons Kyle, Mark and Ernie Jr.

As it turned out, Lydia Meyers had a passion for baking and ended up giving Sarah and I two pies (one pumpkin and one strawberry rhubarb) and a basket of assorted muffins and loaves.

As Sarah and I drove to the Addisons' pumpkin farm I couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Sarah asked from the driver's seat.

"We're nearly strangers to the Meyers' and here Lydia is giving us food like we're a couple of cousins coming for a visit," I answered.

Sarah seemed to ponder the statement for a moment and then she too began to laugh.

The Addisons' were an older couple but they still farmed as if they were young. Thomas Addison was devoted to his pumpkins; he grew them to sell for Jack-O-Lanterns and to be made into pies and displayed his largest ones at the county fairs in the spring and fall. The man had to be in his late seventies but he was very energetic and full of good humour. His wife of forty years, Ida, insisted that Sarah and I stay for lunch even though it was still early in the morning.

Sarah and I drove down to the post-office and she picked up the mail, mostly bills but also a few letters from her friends back in New York.

"People still know how to write letters?" I asked, jokingly.

I grabbed a copy of the town's newspaper: The Petite Telegraph.

When we arrived back at the ranch, I sat at the kitchen table and flipped through the paper, there was hardly any noteworthy news in it… it mainly dealt with things only a farmer would appreciate. I looked in the Want Ads idly; maybe I'd find myself a job there.

Bobby arrived late in the afternoon. He drove up in an old, once-silver Desoto.

I opened the front door and couldn't help but smile at seeing the old hunter.

I moved out of the way so he could come inside. He looked around at the house and whistled.

Sarah appeared at my side. She was wearing a pair of fade-wash jeans and a knitted red sweater.

"This is Sarah," I said and Bobby shook her hand.

"Bobby Singer," Bobby introduced himself.

"It's good to finally meet you Mr. Singer," Sarah said.

Bobby waved a hand, "Bobby's fine."

We went into the kitchen and Sarah took three beers from the fridge.

"You look a whole lot better than when I last saw you boy," Bobby said and took a gulp of beer.

"I am better," I answered.

Bobby nodded and then turned serious, "then why do you need that medicine again?"

I sighed. I didn't want to tell Bobby that I had had a nightmare, I didn't want to seem as though I was complaining.

"I don't think the PTSD went away when Lucifer died…I don't know…I guess I just hoped that when he was gone, that would go as well…" I said and quickly drank some beer.

"How bad was it?" Bobby asked.

"It was just a nightmare…a really vivid nightmare," I answered, I didn't want to sound whiny but I also didn't want to make the symptoms seem less severe than they were.

"Anything else?" the old hunter pressed.

"Some depression," I said as though Bobby was a doctor and I was giving him a list of symptoms.

"No stomach problems? No hallucinations?"

I shook my head, thank God for small miracles.

Bobby took a small, folded slip of paper from his old, brown vest and opened it up.

"You still have that ID, right?"

"Yeah," I answered. In fact, I still had all my fake IDs…hey, you never know when those things might come in handy.

Bobby slid the paper across the table and I picked it up to see the three familiar medications for PTSD scrawled on the paper and Bobby's signature as Dr. Edgar Post.

Bobby took a sip of beer and turned to Sarah and asked about herself.

Sarah smiled and told Bobby about how we had met, what her father had done for a living, etc.

Before we knew it the day had grown late and it was getting dark. Bobby said he needed to head back to Sioux Falls to be there in the morning.

"Why the rush?" I asked as Bobby pulled on his boots and opened the front door.

"Someone needs to feed Rebel and my neighbours are a little too scatter-brained to remember," Bobby said in a not-unkindly way.

"Oh, Bobby, uh…please don't tell Dean about the medicine. I don't want him to worry about me," I asked. Dean had worried about me enough in the past and I didn't want him to worry now.

"I won't tell him," Bobby said and Sarah and I followed him out to the Desoto and watched as he turned and drove down the dirt drive.

Days passed. Sarah and I drove up down to Butte and filled my prescription. We bought a pre-used GMC pickup truck; Sarah said all the dirt roads weren't good on her little Audi. I continued to look through the Want Ads of newspapers. Sarah showed me how to clean out the horses' stalls and put fresh straw in, etc. During the days, while Sarah was at The Gallery, I would hop the fence to the pasture and sit against the big oak and just watch the horses. Oftentimes, Marlowe would clomp over and lay down near me, turning his large eye toward me and huff as if talking. I really liked the big gelding, he seemed to have witnessed a lot in his life and he was now content to settle down, like I was trying to do.

I tried to keep myself occupied constantly, prevent my mind from wandering toward the memories it seemed to want to visit for some morbid reason. Even though the medication made the symptoms of PTSD manageable I still could not erase my memories of Hell so easily.

Dean brought Lisa and the boys (and the dog) for a visit about a week after I had come to the farm.

It was great to see Dean, he seemed happy and content as I had never seen him before. Sarah and Lisa were inside with Ben and the baby. Sarah was in the midst of preparing a roast chicken dinner.

Dean and I sat on a couple of Muskoka chairs on the porch, beer in hand. The dog, Copper was sniffing and chuffing around the yard, his yellow back reflecting the evening light.

"Do you miss hunting?" I asked Dean.

"Which part? The shady motels every night, the shitty fast-food or nearly getting killed every other day?" My brother asked in response.

I shrugged, "in general, do you miss it?"

Between the two of us Dean always seemed the most at home on the road, hunting baddies and answering to no one but himself.

Between the two of us, I had always been the one who had dreamed of something more than hunting, I had wanted to marry and live the American Dream.

"No, I don't miss it," Dean answered at last, "I'm finally, really happy now. I wouldn't trade this for all the world."

I took a sip of beer and watched Copper sniff around the fence posts of the pasture.

"What about you?" Dean said, "I'd figure you'd be getting antsy by now."

"I miss being able to help people," I answered truthfully.

Dean and I didn't speak again for a long while. The dog came up onto the porch and whined at Dean to have his head scratched.

"Dean, do you really think our family is cursed?" I wanted to know his opinion. For all the bad things that had happened to both my brother and I, it seemed likely that the Winchesters all lived with the Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.

Dean looked askance at me, "what would give you that idea?"

I shrugged, we had heard before that our family was cursed but until now we had never really had time to dwell on that idea.

"I don't think we're cursed, Sam. Maybe it's just bad luck or karma or coincidence but not some curse," Dean answered. I could see by the expression on his face that he really didn't believe in a curse, I guessed he didn't want to see his son condemned to a life of misfortune just because he carried the name of Winchester.

I nodded, of course I didn't want to believe in a curse either but it seemed more and more likely.

"So, are you and Lisa ever going to get married?" I asked to change the subject.

Dean nodded, "we're looking at July of this year."

I grinned, "That's great!"

Dinner was a comfortable affair. I sat on one end of the table with Sarah on my left and Lisa on my right, Ben sat beside his mother and Dean had the other end of the table.

Besides chicken, Sarah had made mashed potatoes, green beans and carrots and those Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. Lisa seemed to be much more at ease around me and that reduced my stress level immensely, I was worried that she'd be uneasy around me and I, in turn would be nervous toward her, afraid of saying something that wouldn't sit well with her.

Ben looked up at me with a kind of awe only a child can manage. To him I seemed like some superhero or something. Dean had told me he let Ben know that I had not saved the world per se (that was too large a revelation) but that I was a hero, like a police officer or firefighter. I had thought that amusing, that Dean would compare me to men and women of such professions, most of the time I felt more like a war veteran.

I guessed that Dean had to say something to Ben to placate him and that is what he thought up on the spot.

After dinner, when Sarah, Lisa, Dean and I were sitting in the living room with mugs of coffee (Ben was playing on his blue Nintendo DS as he sat on the loveseat beside his mother). Dean was holding Samuel James.

"Do you want to hold him?" Dean asked, indicating the sleeping bundle in his arms.

"Uh…I don't think so…I've never held a baby before," I stammered nervously.

"It's easy, all you have to do is make sure you're supporting his head," Dean said and held his son toward me.

I looked at Sarah and Lisa. Sarah smiled encouragingly, she had spent nearly an hour earlier today holding the baby and of course she looked like a natural. Lisa nodded in affirmation that I could hold her son.

I set my mug of coffee on the table and awkwardly held my hands out.

Dean set the baby in my arms, careful to place his son so the child's head was resting on my arm. Slowly I drew my arms closer to my body and shifted a little to get more comfortable, overly careful not to jar the sleeping baby.

"See, easy peasy," Dean grinned.

I couldn't help but grin back. I could feel the baby's warm weight as I held him and thought I could get used to something like this.

I looked down at Samuel James, his eyes were closed fast. I could just make out a sandy brown patch of hair poking out from the blanket he was wrapped in; his cheeks had a healthy red glow to them.

Samuel James opened his toothless mouth in a wide yawn and opened his eyes; they were already darkening from newborn blue to a hazel like Dean's. I sat stiffly as he focused his gaze on me and seemed to be pondering my face.

Then the baby giggled and I relaxed, I didn't know what I was worried about. After a couple of more minutes I gave Samuel James back to Dean.

"You passed the test," Dean smiled, "you're father material."

Dean and Lisa had planned to go back to Cicero in the morning. They would have stayed with Sarah and I but there was no room even though Dean said they could crash in the living room. Instead they booked into a motel for the night in a little place that only had a dozen rooms just outside of Petite. The motel didn't allow pets so Copper stayed with us for the night. He would get picked up in the morning before Dean and Lisa left.

Sarah and I sat on the couch with Copper at our feet and watched some TV until late in the night.

A few days after Dean's visit I found an ad in the paper for a position at the public library in Butte and I called to schedule an interview. The only things I knew about libraries was what I had gathered from hours of studying in them during college and whenever I needed to do research for hunts. Sarah was supportive though, she believed I'd do fine in the interview.

I drove the hour and forty minutes to Butte in the pickup truck and was interviewed by an elderly librarian. She was retiring and she needed a suitable replacement. The library was quite large and old. It smelt of books and binding and mould.

The old librarian looked down at my fake credentials with a critical eye. I really needed a job and I didn't really feel too bad about lying.

I had written up that I had attended a good college that offered the Library Technician program; I said I had a Degree in Library Sciences and had worked at a library in New York that Sarah had named. I had even put the name of the chief librarian from New York in a list of references that I had ready. If the old librarian got snoopy she'd end up phoning Sarah's cell phone instead of Leah Landers.

The librarian looked up at me through her horn-rimmed glasses. She pursed her lips painted a garish pink. She was wearing an old fashioned dress in flowery print and padded shoulders. Her hair was almost transparent in the fluorescent lights of her office.

"So, Mr. McIlrath, you have an excellent resume," the old librarian said in a dusty voice.

Yes, I used a fake name. I still didn't like to use my real name for things such as this.

"Is there a problem, Mrs. Warner?" I asked. I had my hands folded on my lap. I had dressed in a black suit and a dark blue tie for the occasion so I would look as professional as possible.

"No, no," she hesitated. Apparently I didn't look enough like a librarian for her.

Mrs. Warner looked down at my resume again, reading it through her bifocals.

"I can start as soon as is convenient for you," I said. I knew not to be too pushy or else I'd just push the interviewer away.

Mrs. Natasha Warner was retiring in six weeks and she was in a rush to find a replacement. The decision to retire had come quickly, her husband, Herbert had been diagnosed with cancer and she wanted to be there to take care of him.

I ended up hearing Mrs. Warner's reason for retirement before she began the interview. It sounded to me like she told every potential replacement her tale of woe. I had the idea that she was one of those people who liked to glean sympathy from everyone, someone who always told others their depressing stories to get attention.

"How old are you Mr. McIlrath?" Mrs. Warner asked. She wanted someone young certainly, so they'd stay in the position for a long while, but not too young as to be inexperienced.

"Twenty-seven," I answered.

Mrs. Warner pursed her lips once again and seemed to search my face, for what I don't know.

Whatever Mrs. Warner had been looking for she must have found it because she smiled.

She informed me that I was hired and that I could start as soon as she left.

I waited until I exited the library before breathing a sigh of relief and wondered what I had gotten myself into.

Six weeks later I began my new job and found it very enjoyable. The other employees at the library were very nice and seemed to like the idea of having a head librarian who hadn't born when George Washington was President.

Sarah was selling her antiques at a slow but steady pace, mostly to tourists who thought them quaint. I wondered why Sarah hadn't just kept her father's auction house and stayed in Albany- at least that way she had a lively clientele who always came back for more instead of the few and far between people just passing through Petite who might like to buy an old portrait or vase.

At the end of April, Sarah informed me that she was pregnant. She had thought so since early in the month but she wanted to be positive. Sarah said the baby would be due in early December. I could barely believe it. I was going to have a son or daughter! Through the excitement though, I felt rather inadequate for fatherhood. I had to get up early to get to Butte on time for work and I often came home late in the evenings, I had to take medication every day to keep the PTSD at bay… somehow I didn't feel as if I'd be winning the Father of the Year award any time soon. I knew Sarah believed in me though and when I told Dean he was immensely supportive. He reminded me that he had been through many of the same things as I and still managed to be a good Dad. Dean said I was just nervous from hearing the news and I'd feel better about it in time.

On July twelfth Dean and Lisa were married. They had the ceremony outside in a small park on the outskirts of Cicero. Dean couldn't stop grinning the entire time during the ceremony and reception. It was a small wedding though, nothing huge. From Lisa's side she had her sister Cheryl and her husband and daughter, her parents and Lisa's best friend from her college days, a thin, stork- like woman named Nadine. From Dean's side it was even smaller: Just Bobby and Sarah and I. I was Dean's best man and Cheryl was the single maid of honour. A minister from a local Protestant church presided over the wedding. I was happy that things finally seemed to be working out for Dean and I, our lives had finally taken a turn for the better and I knew that my brother was relishing every moment as much as I was.

Sarah and I were married in September. We didn't even have a ceremony; we just went to City Hall. Weeks before Sarah and I were going to marry, I had Dean come with me to look at wedding rings. We drove a jeweler in Helena and I looked at every suggestion critically.

The guy behind the counter was quickly becoming annoyed that I didn't just pick one.

I wanted one that was both elegant and practical.

"They're wedding rings Sam; they are not supposed to be practical!" Dean commented as he peered over my shoulder at a large ring of yellow gold and a baguette cut diamond surrounded by smaller, round diamonds.

I shook my head and the jeweler narrowed his lips and put the ring back under the glass counter.

"C'mon Sam, just go Eenie-Meenie-Miney-Moe for all I care," Dean sighed.

Finally I picked out one I was sure Sarah would like. It was a band of white gold with a round diamond with a smaller, round sapphire on either side of it. Dean made a face when he saw my choice.

"What?" I asked as I paid the harried looking jeweler.

"The diamond's kind of small," Dean said.

"Just because Lisa wanted a diamond the size of the Rock of Gibraltar doesn't mean Sarah does," I answered.

"Whatever," Dean said and we drove back to Petite in silence. Dean thought I must be cheap but I knew that the ring I had bought would make Sarah happier than if I had picked one with a diamond the size of a ping-pong ball on it. I wasn't being cheap anyway; I had enough money from my job at the library so that I was not at all low on cash. Most of the money went into the bank so we'd have something for retirement and some went into a college-fund for our child. Sarah and I didn't need to buy any over-the-top luxuries, we were happy with our farm and everything in it. Besides, it would not impress the people of Petite if Sarah and I were to tear down the farm and build a huge mansion or something. Sarah and I were both rational, reasonable people and didn't really see any need to go on spending-sprees just because we had money. Sarah was tired of money deciding who she was, who she could associate with, etc. She hated being 'the rich girl'. As for me, since I had never been raking in the dough, ever, I really didn't know what else to do with the money but invest it in the future.

As it turned out, Sarah loved the ring. The wedding ring Sarah had purchased for me was a wide silver band, plain but still attractive.

Our daughter was born on December sixth and Sarah and I named her Faith. The first month after Faith was born was bad, neither Sarah nor I were prepared for the fact that the baby cried a lot, especially in the middle of the night for hours, even when one of us was with her. The lack of sleep was hard on me, being stressed and tired aggravated the PTSD until, when I did get some sleep, I'd be plagued by horrible nightmares like the one I had experienced just after arriving at the farm. The depression flared up with a vengeance and I was often taking more lithium than was recommended. Oftentimes, because I was awake anyway, I'd be the one sitting in Faith's nursery, rocking her and trying to get her to sleep so I could sleep too. After December, Faith settled down to become a quite agreeable baby. She rarely cried in the middle of the night after that and slept a great deal. Sarah and I decided to make Dean and Lisa Faith's God Parents. I knew that if anything, Heaven forbid, happened to Sarah and I that my brother and his wife would take excellent care of our daughter.

Dean and Lisa tried to visit as often as possible, at least once a month if they could manage. Bobby would come out to Montana as if on a whim. He would call once a week, though; keeping me informed with what was going on in the supernatural world, especially with all the things that go bump in the night that called Montana home. The old hunter was very reserved when speaking to me and I didn't know why. He seemed happy that I had finally called it quits and was now living the apple-pie life, but something was troubling Bobby and if I asked he would avoid the question.

For the most part I tried not to dwell on the past but look to the future. After everything that had happened, after all the choices I had made (for good or ill) I finally had what I had wanted since I was a child: a normal life.


	13. Dream On

I was woken up by someone gently shaking my shoulder. I lifted my head off my desk, embarrassed that Valerie had caught me sleeping again.

"Sorry," I mumbled and closed the copy of George Orwell's Nineteen-Eighty Four I had been using as an impromptu pillow.

Valerie looked at me with mild concern.

"Are you alright, Tim?" She asked, using the fake name, Timothy McIlrath, I had written on my resume when I began the job at the library.

"Yeah, yeah," I said and checked the time on my computer. It was just after eight o'clock in the evening!

Shit, I thought, if I'm late home again Sarah will kill me!

"Uh, is everything in order?" I asked and stood. I grabbed my jacket off the back of the swivel chair.

"All the books in the basement and first floor are back on their shelves…we took a couple to be repaired and Christine said she'd stay to organize the second floor," Valerie said.

The public library in Butte was quite large, it had five floors, including the basement, and besides me there were only six other people working there.

Sometimes it seemed as if there was too much to do and too few people to do it.

I nodded, "alright, I have to go but I will see you tomorrow. Don't forget to lock up."

The library usually closed at seven but we stayed to tidy up the floors and take out books to be discarded, repaired, etc.

Valerie nodded and left the small office. The room itself seemed closet-sized, squeezed into the south wing of the fifth floor. I stepped into the hall and shrugged my jacket onto my shoulders. The air conditioned hallway was a relief after the stifling, windowless office. I walked down the well-worn hall carpeted in ancient grey. As I got to the staircase I turned and looked at the long, narrow maze of bookshelves behind me. I breathed in the scent of old paper, ink, glue and dust. I smiled.

I walked down the staircase, my family occupying my thoughts. Sarah and I had never been closer. It may seem cliché to say so but maybe opposites do attract- I was often pensive, focused, stubborn, and (I hate to admit this) sometimes a little paranoid. Sarah, on the other hand; liked to voice her thoughts and emotions as soon as they came to her, she was passive-aggressive, optimistic, she was very determined, set in her ways, and always the one to keep me grounded.

As I walked through the main floor (first floor) of the library I said a quick 'good night' to Christine.

I stepped out into the mild Montana June evening. I could hear the sound of passing cars and the chirp of crickets in the grass boulevard just outside the library.

I strolled to the designated 'Employee Parking' area, unlocked the pickup and slid into the driver's seat. I peered at the photograph sitting in the space between the passenger and driver's seats. It had been taken just after Faith's second birthday, when we were decorating the tree for Christmas. In the photo, Faith, wearing a festive green dress with red ribbons, grinned broadly at her mother taking the picture. I was holding our daughter up high so she could put the angel on top of the tree. Faith had been so proud of herself for being able to reach the top of the evergreen, albeit with my assistance, she demanded that placing the angel be her job from then on.

I started the pickup's engine and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. My thoughts turned now to my new son, Aaron. He had been born this April tenth. It was pretty crazy in our house with a two-year old and a two-month old. The drive back to Petite was quiet; I listened to some country station on the radio, looking forward to the weekend.

It was almost ten o'clock when I turned down our long, dirt driveway. The headlights shone brightly on the silhouettes of our three horses as I passed the pasture.

Sarah must be letting the horses stay out a little later since its warm, I thought. Or she's going to let me deal with them because I'm coming home late.

I cut the engine as I parked and stepped outside. I could see that the lights in the living room were on as well as the porch light.

I heard the horses whinny and stamp their hooves nervously. I looked over at them; all three had their ears laid back against their heads and their eyes were so round I could see the whites.

Frowning, I moved to the fence and reached out toward Duncan, who was closest. He shied away from me, and flared his nostrils. Marlowe, ears still flat, stepped forward and sniffed my offered hand. Ginger stepped from foot to foot nervously, as though ready to run the moment danger presented itself.

Must be a fox nearby, I said to myself. The horses would act jumpy and agitated if one of those was around. I decided to go inside and greet the family and then put the horses in for the night.

I went inside and stood in the small entrance hall to take off my shoes and jacket.

"Sarah, I'm home," I said loudly.

No answer. I could hear the TV in the living room so she must be watching it, mad that I wasn't home sooner.

"I lost track of the time," I said as I put my jacket into the hall closet.

No reply. By now Sarah would have come out into the hall, arms folded over her breast and an I-want-to-be-angry-with-you-but-can't-when-you-do-the-'puppy eyes' expression.

Maybe she was really mad at me. Was there something happening today that I shouldn't have missed? A birthday? An Anniversary?

"Sarah?" I looked into the living room.

"Sarah, where are you?" I asked and looked into the kitchen. No Sarah.

"Sarah!" I called loudly, trying hard not to panic.

I walked farther into the house. Except for the sound of the television, it was eerily still. Surely if Sarah had gone out she would leave a note on the fridge or the table, somewhere I could find it.

She just got tired of waiting for me and went to read in bed or something, I told myself.

I walked up the stairs and saw that our bedroom door was open just a crack, the light on.

Relief washed through me and I breathed for the first time since being answered by silence.

I tiptoed down the hall and pushed gently on the bedroom door and felt my heart leap into my throat at the sight of the scene that greeted me.

Sarah lay splayed on the bed, covered in blood.

"No," I gasped and stumbled into the room on legs that felt as though they were made of lead.

"No, Sarah, no, no, no," I continued as I moved to my wife's side.

I knelt down at the bedside, the knees of my jeans squelching in blood that had pooled onto the white area carpet beneath the bed.

I looked down at Sarah, her blood-streaked face a mask of shock and pain. Her grey eyes stared at the ceiling, devoid of the spark of life.

I didn't know what to do so I just kept saying Sarah's name over and over again in hopes of calling her back to me.

"Oh Sarah, no, this can't be happening. Sarah, Sarah…"

I took up one of Sarah's icy hands and placed it against my cheek. I could feel hot tears running down my face and could hear myself gasping and sobbing.

I set Sarah's hand down gently as the coppery, salty smell of blood became almost overpowering and I gagged.

Faith! Aaron! My mind suddenly went to my children. Oh God, please let them be alright.

I got numbly to my feet, unwilling to leave Sarah though I knew there was nothing I could do for her, and staggered down the hall to my baby son's room.

The room was dark so I turned on the light switch by the door.

A tortured moan escaped my lips as I saw the crimson pool that had spread beneath the crib.

I did not enter the room but reeled away. All I could smell was blood and fear and death.

I didn't want to go to Faith's room. There was little doubt in my mind what I would find there but my legs moved of their own accord and I found myself staring at the huddled figure of my daughter beneath a blanket soaked in blood that was black in the rosy glow of the nightlight.

I realized Faith must have been trying to hide from her attacker the only way a child knew how to- if I can't see you then you can't see me.

I tripped down the stairs, nearly falling down them and made my way sluggishly to the living room where the phone was.

Someone had murdered my family; I needed to call the police.

I jabbed the numbers with wooden fingers and listened as the phone rang once and a familiar voice answered.

"Petite Police Department, Renata speaking," the young woman's clear, calm voice said.

I paused, what was I going to say?

"Hello?" Renata asked, "what is your emergency?"

"They're…they're dead….all of them. It's my fault. They're dead," I stammered.

"Sam? Is that you? You'll have to speak up, I didn't hear you," Renata said coolly.

"Dead…Sarah and Faith and….Aaron….they're dead….it's my fault," I said louder, my voice cracking with emotion. It was my fault. If I hadn't been an idiot and fallen asleep I would have been home sooner and I could have protected my family.

"Okay Sam, stay where you are. I'll send Coombs and Larkin over right away," Renata said, concern filling her voice.

"Are you at your farm?" Renata asked but I hung up on her.

I lowered the phone and stared at it as if I had never seen one before. Setting the phone on the coffee table, I walked back upstairs and into the bedroom. Ignoring the blood and gore, I got onto the bed and sat cross-legged and carefully moved Sarah's body so I had her head resting in my lap. I closed her eyes with trembling fingers and brushed her blood soaked hair from her face. I wept until I was sure I couldn't any more. My eyes felt swollen and my face was hot and sore.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, just don't take them away from me," I whispered. I didn't know who I was speaking to but it didn't really matter, no one was listening, Sarah remained silent and still.

It seemed like hours had passed before I heard the wail of approaching sirens. I looked up to see red and blue lights flashing outside. I set Sarah down on the bed carefully, as if she might break and walked downstairs and stepped out onto the porch.

I saw Coombs and his deputy, Larkin and a state trooper wearing khaki and a Smokey Bear hat.

"Put your hands where I can see them!" The trooper demanded.

Coombs and Larkin were staring at me with horrified expressions. I looked down and saw that I was covered in blood.

"I didn't-" I began to explain but the trooper shouted at me again.

"Shut up and put your hands where I can see them!"

I raised my trembling hands and looked around with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Now just stay there pal," the trooper said as he stepped forward and took a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

I allowed the trooper to cuff my hands behind my back- if I fought him I'd only look guilty.

With one hand firmly on my upper arm, the officer led me to his car and put me in the backseat.

Even through the bullet-proof glass I could hear Coombs and Larkin and the trooper talking several feet away.

"That's a lot of blood on him, isn't it Coombs?" Larkin said nervously.

Coombs nodded and glanced at me.

"Either of you fellas wanna go in?" The trooper asked the two.

Coombs shook his head but volunteered Larkin to accompany the trooper.

I watched as Larkin and the trooper disappeared into the house. Five minutes must have passed when Larkin ran out, his face as pale as a sheet, and puked on the front lawn.

Larking looked up at me with growing horror.

After another five minutes the trooper came out of the house, "you got the coroner coming?"

"Yes," Coombs said.

"We'll need one," the trooper said and patted Larkin roughly on the shoulder.

The three officers of the law continued to talk as if I wasn't there, or couldn't hear their conversation.

"You know this fella?" The trooper asked Coombs.

Coombs nodded, "I thought I did. Me and Larkin are friends of his."

The trooper asked Coombs how long he had known me.

"Near three years now," Coombs answered.

Larkin looked from his superior to the trooper, "why'd he do it?"

"Dunno, son. Some folks can be perfectly fine one day and the next they go off the deep end," the trooper answered.

"I didn't do it!" I said loudly.

The three looked at me for a moment and turned away, walked closer to the house, trying to be out of range of my hearing.

I sat in the back of the police cruiser, numb to the officers' discussion until the coroner pulled up in his large white truck.

The coroner was a man by the name of Terry O'Connor whom I had met on many occasions at the barber shop in town.

Terry was a stooped, grey-haired old man with a wicked sense of humor and a sharp tongue. He shook hands with the trooper and greeted Coombs and Larkin with a grim expression.

He glanced at the cruiser I sat in and asked Coombs a question: is that Sam Winchester in there?

After a few whispered words, Terry set to work. The trooper assisted the old man as they grabbed metal gurneys and sinister black bags out of the truck.

I watched in horror as the trooper and Terry rolled Sarah's body out of the house, than Aaron's, then finally Faith's.

I knew that as soon as the double doors shut I'd never see my family again. I didn't care how crazy I sounded; I didn't want Terry to take my family away from me.

"Terry, don't take them! Don't take Sarah away from me!" I said loudly so he'd be able to hear me through the glass.

The old coroner looked at me with a sad expression but ignored my pleas and closed the truck doors with a mocking click.

Terry got back into the truck and drove slowly down the driveway and out of sight.

Coombs and Larkin and the trooper spoke for a couple of more minutes and then the trooper and Coombs approached the cruiser I was sitting in.

The trooper got into the driver's seat and Coombs took shotgun. Larkin, apparently, was supposed to stay here until reinforcements came to look at the crime scene.

"Where are we going?" I asked Coombs.

"Helena," the sheriff answered. The Petite police station usually housed only drunks.

I could see from where I sat that Coombs's mouth was drawn down in a frown, a vertical line had formed deeply between his eyes.

"Coombs, you know I didn't do it. I would never hurt Sarah or my kids," I said but his frown only deepened.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror: my face was pale, almost grey, my eyes wide and red from sobbing, my hair was plastered to my forehead with sweat and I had a smear of blood on my cheek. I looked like I was insane. And guilty.

I kept telling Coombs and the trooper over and over again that it wasn't me, that I didn't do it, that I loved my wife and children and would never in a million years even think of hurting them. Eventually Coombs was forced to read me my rights so I would shut up.

The trip to Helena seemed the longest in my life. All I could see were the lifeless figures of my family and blood, so much blood.

Finally we stopped just outside of the Helena Police Station. Coombs got out first, and then the trooper, and then me.

The trooper kept one hand firmly on my arm as we walked up the grey steps and into the station. The bright fluorescent lights hurt my eyes, causing me to squint.

I could see other cops milling around, waiting for an interesting call, munching on Krispy Kreme donuts. They seemed surprised to see the trooper and Coombs.

They seemed even more surprised to see me covered in blood.

"Can I get someone to process this guy?" the trooper asked.

A young female officer and an older male officer stepped forward.

"Drunk driver or bar fight?" The old officer asked the trooper.

"Son of a bitch sliced and diced his wife and kids," the trooper answered.

Coombs stared at the trooper; obviously the state cop decided I was guilty until proven innocent.

The trooper let go of my arm but didn't un-handcuffed me. The old officer, Mills, the name on his uniform said, took hold of my left arm and the female cop, Summers, took hold of my right one.

I was led down a maze of hallways, both cops watching me with ready expressions in case I decided to make a dash for it. They needn't have worried, I was still in shock and I would only end up getting lost in the huge labyrinthine station.

I was processed: the works, fingerprints, mug shot, etc. I traded in my bloodstained clothes for a grey prison jumpsuit.

I was led down another hallway to where the cells were and briefly wondered if the cops would find out about my previous arrests and convictions, many of which I had Dean to thank for.

Summers and Mills put me into an empty cell and peered at me for a moment as if I was some newly discovered, violent animal.

"Don't I get that one phone call?" I asked. Dean needed to know where I was, even though I had no idea what I was going to say: hey, Dean, I'm in jail in Helena 'cause everyone thinks I butchered Sarah and the kids. So, can you pay my bail?

"Alright," Summers said and left for a moment.

Mills breathed a sigh and looked at me for a long while.

"I didn't do it," I said, "I know everyone who comes in here must say this but I really am innocent."

Mills nodded but his expression said he had heard everyone to sit behind these bars speak the very same words so many times he never believed it anymore.

Summers came back and handed me a cordless phone.

"Thanks," I mumbled and dialed the Dean and Lisa's number.

I turned around and lifted the phone to my ear. I didn't want the cops to watch as I had to tell my brother my situation.

The phone rang once, twice, three times, four times…

"C'mon Dean, pick up the goddamn phone!" I hissed into the receiver but the phone just kept ringing.

"Hey, this is Dean and Lisa! We can't come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and a message, we'll get back to you eventually!"

I was not going to leave a message. I handed the phone back to Summers and sat down on the cot with a sigh.

The cops said nothing but left and I was alone to ponder the events of the last few hours in silence.

Who could have done such a horrible thing to Sarah and my children? I racked my brain as I tried to think of an enemy, any old enemy from my days as a hunter who may want revenge but my mind drew a blank. The most dangerous people I knew that wouldn't think twice about harming my innocent family were dead. I tried to think of someone, anyone who would have it in for me in such a way, to kill my family instead of myself as punishment for some wrong done to them either real or imagined.

Through my thoughts only one person kept popping up, like some Jack-In-The-Box from Hell but I refused to allow myself time to dwell on that individual. There was no possible way, he was dead, I had killed him myself…besides, why would he wait until now to make a move? To punish me, of course.

No, it wasn't him. It was impossible. I refused to entertain the idea that he had done this.

Right now more than anything I wanted Dean here. I wanted my brother to lend me his strength, to reassure me that everything was going to be okay even if it was a lie. I wanted Bobby to be here as well; I hadn't seen the old hunter in a long while and could really use his cool rationale.

I didn't sleep at all that night. I just kept thinking over and over that if I had done things differently that day my family would still be alive. I put my head in my hands and wept.

Two days later there was a hearing to see if I would be allowed to be set out on bail. I had a state-appointed lawyer: a man not much older than myself by the name of Thatcher.

Thatcher tried to assure the judge that I wasn't a threat to the general public but in the end I was declined bail because of the violence of the crime and the fact that I may be a flight-risk.

The criminal trial was set for two months in the future. In that time I called the jail in Helena home. Thatcher came almost every day to discuss the strategy of getting me a light sentence.

"I would advise you to plead guilty, you won't get as long a sentence," Thatcher told me from day one.

We were sitting in the visitors' room, a long metal table separating us. Luckily, there was no one else in the room at the time so we had some privacy.

"I'm not going to admit to a crime I didn't commit!" I said.

"If you plead 'not guilty' Sam, you'll have a longer sentence, especially if a jury does find you guilty," Thatcher told me.

"I would rather go to jail maintaining my innocence and have a longer sentence than say I did it and have everyone believe I'd murder my family!" I was not going to plead guilty just so I wouldn't be in jail as long.

Thatcher sighed and ran a hand through his light blond hair.

"The DA is already gathering evidence against you, convincing evidence I might add. All we really have to go by is your own testimony," the lawyer said.

I shook my head. We had more than that.

"Valerie Hannigan and Christine Burgess saw me the night it happened, they saw me leave the library," I said.

Thatcher nodded.

"I've already spoken to both of them and Ms. Hannigan said she would testify that she saw you leave the library," Thatcher looked through his notes.

"What about Christine?" I asked. She was a shy, quiet older woman in her late sixties who was like a mother hen to all the employees at the library, including me.

"Uh, she is refusing to testify either for or against you," Thatcher said in a distracted voice as he read his notes.

I sighed. Christine probably wouldn't want to see any of her friends on trial, especially for something as serious as murder.

"Is that all we have?" I asked. I hoped we just didn't have Valerie as a witness.

"We have Coombs Jenkins and Ralph Petrovich," Thatcher answered.

A thought suddenly occurred to me: "what about the death penalty?"

Thatcher scoffed, "there are only a handful of guys on death row right now and they are only hardened criminals. I don't think we have to worry about anyone bringing up the death penalty in this case."

Months passed (the trial kept getting delayed) and I had neither seen nor heard from Bobby and Dean. Soon the story of my crime leaked out to the public and I became infamous. Even in jail I knew that I had become 'that librarian from Butte who went crazy and chopped up his family'.

The day of the trial came. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, a crisp January wind blew outside. Thatcher brought me one of my suits from where everything was being kept in storage. Once again, as he tried every time we met, Thatcher told me to plead guilty.

I refused for the hundredth time as I was escorted down the hall and into a waiting police car. Thatcher seemed nervous on the ride to the court house.

"What?" I asked, his nervous expression making me agitated as well.

Thatcher told me that the DA, Roy Easton, was a smooth talker, excellent at getting the most sympathy from the jury. The judge that was to preside was an old woman, set in her ways and not likely to look kindly upon a guy accused of killing his wife and two young children.

Right now all of our evidence and witness testimonies seemed very flimsy.

"Don't look so down, Sam. We have a good amount of evidence in your defense," Thatcher said.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one looking at a life sentence if we lose," I grumbled.

Nerves made my stomach squirm as though it was full of worms and I felt decidedly ill.

As we drove closer to the court house I noticed there were a lot of cop cars around and grim looking officers.

We heard the noise even before we saw the mob.

"That doesn't sound much like a welcoming committee," Thatcher muttered.

When we pulled up in front of the court house I could see a large group of people; reporters, police and protestors all shouting and trying to get a glimpse of the criminal: me.

Thatcher got out of the front passenger seat and smoothed down his beige suit, straightened his baby blue tie and patted his hair.

The cop driving the cruiser got out and opened the door so I could unfold myself from the back seat. I had my hands cuffed in front of me. The cop held my arm in a vice-like grip either to prevent me from running or to prevent any overly enthused bystander from coming at me.

I could feel sweat dripping down my back and face as I looked at the crowd of people blocking our way into the building. I began to breathe heavily with near-panic.

Thatcher walked beside me as the cops in the crowd pushed the people out of our way. I lifted my hands in an attempt to cover my face as cameras flashed and microphones were held out.

"Mr. Winchester is not answering any questions at the moment…" Thatcher repeated the statement over and over to the press.

We made it into the safety of the court house and instead of being relieved, I only felt my panic grow.

Thatcher looked at his watch and picked up his pace. We burst through the double doors of the courtroom to the annoyed glare of the judge, the eager expressions of the jury and a smug smirk of the District Attorney.

We sat down before the judge, across the little walkway from Roy Easton.

"Mr. Thatcher, you are nearly ten minutes late. I expect you to be on time in my courthouse," Judge Cassandra Browning said.

"I offer my apologies your Honour, it will not happen again," Thatcher said and poured some water into a plastic cup from the pitcher that sat on the table.

"See that it doesn't," Judge Browning said.

This was it. The trial to decide my fate. I could feel the eyes of the jury members boring into my back. They were thirsty for blood, my blood as though they were a bunch of vampires.

"Court is now in session. Case 1245-B: The State of Montana vs. Sam Winchester," Judge Browning said and the trial began.

Thatcher called me up to the witness stand to relay the events leading up to the night of August third.

I went through my routine that day, stopping whenever Thatcher wanted something clarified:

"So it takes you an hour and forty-five minutes to drive from your home to the library in Butte?" Thatcher asked even though I had just said so.

"Yes," I answered.

Thatcher turned to the jury: "an hour and forty-five minutes people! Remember that!"

I told them what time it had been when I left the library and what time it was when I returned home.

After the autopsy performed by the coroner it was determined that Sarah, Faith and Aaron had died sometime between six-thirty and seven-thirty.

"You remained at the library the entire day?" Thatcher asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"You didn't drive home for dinner and then return did you?" Thatcher wanted to know.

"No…I stay at work all day and come home in the evening," I answered. It would take too long to drive home and back to Butte just for dinner.

"What time do you normally get home?" Thatcher asked.

"Objection, your Honour, that question is irrelevant," Roy Easton spoke up.

The Judge looked down at Thatcher.

"I was just establishing a timeline, your Honour," Thatcher answered.

"I'll allow it," the Judge said.

I stated the time I usually arrive home at.

"Why were you late this evening, Mr. Winchester?" Thatcher asked.

I really didn't want to let everyone know that I had fallen asleep but I was under oath and if I had said 'I just lost track of the time' it might have seemed like a stupid answer.

"I, uh…I, uh, fell asleep," I answered, embarrassed.

I heard Roy Easton turn a snigger into a cough as I answered but Thatcher didn't blink.

"Can anyone verify that you were asleep, Mr. Winchester?" Thatcher asked.

"Valerie Hannigan woke me up a little past eight in the evening," I answered.

"Has this ever occurred before?" Thatcher asked.

"Yes," I answered.

Thatcher asked me what I had found upon arriving home. I described that the lights had been on, the TV as well, but when I called there had been no answer.

"At this point did you assume anything was wrong?" Thatcher asked.

"No, I thought that my wife was angry with me and didn't want to speak to me," I answered.

I described the scene I had found in the bedroom. I tried to keep my emotions in check; I didn't want to break down in front of all these strangers. Then I described how I found my children.

Thatcher looked at me and nodded sympathetically.

"Do you recall what time it was when you called the Butte Police Department?" Thatcher asked.

I shook my head, "no…I don't know what the time was."

"It was close to eleven-thirty when the Butte PD received your call," Thatcher said.

Thatcher had not told me how much time had passed since I had arrived home to find my family and when I phoned the police.

"One final question for now: Mr. Winchester, how would you describe your relationship with your wife?" Thatcher asked.

"Good…we hardly ever argued, if we did she always won anyway… I loved Sarah so much…. I would never have done anything to hurt her or our children," I said quietly.

Thatcher nodded.

"Would you like to cross-examine the witness?" Judge Browning asked Easton.

"Yes, your Honour," Roy Easton suppressed a grin that I didn't like.

"Mr. Winchester, how long have you been married?" Easton asked. Easy questions first.

"It would have been three years in September," I answered.

"How did you and your wife meet?"

"At her father's auction house," I answered truthfully.

Easton nodded.

"How long have you known your wife?" Easton asked.

"Eight years," I answered.

"Alright Mr. Winchester, your daughter was two years old, am I correct?" Easton said.

"Yes," What was he trying to get at?

"And your son was only a few months old?"

"Yes. What does this have to do with anything?" I asked but the Judge glared down at me.

"How long have you been taking amitriptyline, clonidine and lithium?" Easton blurted out.

I paused; I hadn't been ready for that question.

"Three years," I answered.

Easton went over to his table and pulled three familiar bottles from his satchel. He held each one up and showed them to the jury.

"This combination of drugs is usually prescribed for people suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," Easton said.

"They help with depression, nightmares, flashbacks, etc." Easton set the bottles down on his table.

The DA turned to me, "so, why, pray tell, should you be taking these? You were not in any wars or seemed to have experienced any life threatening trauma…in fact, there does not seem to be much information on you at all. It's all false names and fake IDs with you isn't it Mr. Winchester or do you prefer Colonel Simon Preston?"

"Objection! The DA is trying to intimidate my client!" Thatcher barked.

"Mr. Easton, this is a court house not the Spanish Inquisition. Do not let me catch you intimidating Mr. Winchester or any other witness," Judge Browning said.

"So sorry your Honour," Easton simpered.

I heard some of the people in the jury whispering to each other.

"Silence in my courthouse!" Judge Browning had heard the jury as well.

"Why are you taking medication for Post-Traumatic Stress, Mr. Winchester?" Easton asked again.

"I would rather not say," I answered. I had no idea what I could say, definitely not the truth though, they would think I was crazy.

"May I remind you that you are under oath," Judge Browning said.

Think, think, think….

"I was prescribed the medicine after an accident," I answered.

Easton looked at me suspiciously but seemed otherwise to take my word for it.

The DA never skipped a beat though.

"You said earlier that Valerie Hannigan found you asleep in your office the day your family was murdered. How often have you fallen asleep at work?" Easton asked.

"Uh…Two or three other times," I said, "I hadn't been sleeping well and I guess I just fell asleep."

Easton nodded.

"Why were you having trouble sleeping?"

"Aaron is… was only a two-month old and he cried a lot. Often I would get up in the middle of the night to go check on him… he was really colicky so I'd just sit with him until he fell asleep," I said and felt warm tears fill my eyes.

Easton looked at me.

"I have no further questions for Mr. Winchester at this time," the DA said and I was allowed to sit back beside Thatcher.

My lawyer poured me a cup of water.

"Just keep playing the 'Grieving Husband and Father' Card and we'll win for sure," Thatcher said and I stared at him.

"You think I did it? Don't you?" I whispered.

Thatcher didn't answer.

"Mr. Thatcher, do you have any more witnesses?"

"Yes, your Honour. I would like to call Valerie Hannigan to testify," Thatcher said.

Thatcher asked Valerie what time it had been when she found me, was I in fact asleep, etc. Pretty much he tried to confirm that it would have been impossible for me to drive from Butte to Petite, murder my family and drive back to work in the timeframe.

Easton cross-examined Valerie.

"Has Mr. Winchester ever displayed any odd behavior at work, which you witnessed?"

"Can you explain what you mean?" Valerie asked. She was pale and wrung her hands nervously.

"Has Mr. Winchester ever acted violent towards you or another employee? Or a library patron perhaps?"

"No, Mr….Winchester would never do that! He was really nice all the time. We all liked him," Valerie answered.

Easton brightened with a cunning glint in his eye.

"There is no need to be nervous Ms. Hannigan, you are not the one on trial here," Easton smiled at Valerie reassuringly.

"You are twenty-two, am I correct?" Easton asked.

"Yes," Valerie seemed calmed by Easton's demeanor.

"You said everyone likes Mr. Winchester…do you like him?" Easton wanted to know.

"What's he doing?" Thatcher mumbled.

"Well, yes, he was a good boss…he didn't act all superior or anything, he was just like another librarian," Valerie answered.

"Were you and Mr. Winchester close?" Easton pressed.

"Oh no," Thatcher said.

I realized with horror what Easton was trying to do: build a motive for me to kill my family. I felt as though a pit had opened in my stomach.

"Just stay calm," Thatcher said, "if nothing happened between you two then its fine. Easton can't create a motive out of thin air."

Of course I had never cheated on Sarah. I loved her too much to do such a thing. Sarah was the only one for me. She was the first woman I had loved since Jessica.

"We were friendly to each other if that's what you mean," Valerie answered.

"Did Mr. Winchester ever say anything suggestive to you?" Easton asked.

Valerie's face scrunched in confusion.

"No. It wasn't like that…we were friends; that was it. Mr. Winchester was friends with all the employees. He always talked about his family with me," Valerie had caught on to Easton's game.

Good girl, I thought.

"How did Mr. Winchester act when he spoke of his family?" Easton still pried. Trying to find that one little mistake that would lead to my downfall.

Valerie smiled, "he really loved his family. He seemed so happy. He was so proud of his wife and little girl and so excited to have a new baby son."

I tried to think of all the times I had spoken to Valerie, trying to make sure that I had not said anything that might be misinterpreted or twisted to mean something else.

"What was Mr. Winchester's behavior on a normal day?" Easton asked.

"I don't really know, he spent a lot of time in his office on the fifth floor," Valerie said.

"Alright," Easton said and concluded his questioning.

"We'll take a short recess and resume in an hour," Judge Browning said and the jury filed out. The Judge left to go to her chambers and probably to lunch.

Easton, Thatcher and I (along with the officer who had escorted us) were left in the court room.

"I think now we'll get the testimony from Mr. Petrovich and Mr. Jenkins," Thatcher said.

"Okay," I was feeling somewhat more relieved. Easton couldn't get a motive and the time frames didn't fit.

"Don't celebrate just yet Thatcher, I've yet to bring out the big guns," Easton said from behind his newspaper.

"Ignore him," Thatcher said, "it looks like the jury is sympathetic to you."

I nodded.

"Will you please consider a guilty plea, though?" Thatcher asked once again.

"No, Thatcher!" I was getting annoyed with his constant asking.

"It looks as if we are going to win but you may still end up in jail," Thatcher pressed.

I glared at him, my anger was rising.

"Would you just shut up about it and let me make the decisions about my own life!" I nearly shouted at the lawyer.

The officer stepped forward in warning. Easton was watching us over the top of his paper; I could almost hear the wheels in his head turning as he thought.

I took a deep breath and slumped in my seat. This was almost too much for me to take.

"You should watch that temper of yours, Mr. Winchester, it'll get you into trouble one of these days," Easton said and chuckled from behind the news.

"Shut up Easton," Thatcher grumbled.

I looked at Thatcher, "you think I did it, don't you?"

Thatcher looked away.

"Answer me," I said.

"No, I don't think you killed your family," Thatcher turned to me but I could see the lie in his eyes. I had no idea where he thought I'd even have the time to drive all the way to Petite and back to Butte again after murdering my wife and children, it just wasn't possible.

When recess ended and the trial continued, Thatcher questioned Coombs and Ralph.

Coombs had nothing bad to say about me prior to the night my family died.

"I always thought he was strange, but I figured that was what city folks were like," Coombs said.

Strange how? Coombs had been questioned.

"He would get real quiet sometimes, and he'd get this queer expression on his face like he had seen too much, like he knew too much," Coombs had said, "My own Daddy looked like sometimes after comin' home from Vietnam, my Mama would tell me."

Coombs spoke of the times he and his wife, Gretchen and their teenage daughter, Ingrid had come to dinner at my house. There had been nothing said or done to suggest that I wasn't a well-balanced, well-adjusted adult.

Then Coombs was asked to describe what he had found when arriving at the ranch the night my family died. Coombs said I was in obvious distress. I had acted scared, Coombs said, but not guilty-scared, more frightened and confused.

"I s'pose anyone would act like that if they found their loved ones murdered in their beds," Coombs said.

Thatcher asked Coombs how I responded to being handcuffed and put into the back of the cruiser.

"He didn't resist if that's what you're getting at. He just kept sayin' over and over again that he didn't do it," Coombs answered.

Easton didn't cross-examine Coombs.

When Ralph was questioned, he only had good things to say. He said I was friendly, a little quiet at times, but never displayed an excessive temper, etc.

I could see that Easton was becoming annoyed with the testimonies going in my favor. So far he only had circumstantial evidence and flimsy circumstantial evidence at that.

Judge Browning dismissed the court for the evening, to convene the next morning at ten a.m. sharp.

"Don't be late tomorrow Mr. Thatcher," Browning said, much to the lawyer's chagrin.

After nearly running past the barely contained mob of people who looked like they'd be happy to lynch me, the ride in the cruiser back to jail was not fun.

Thatcher seemed confident that we would win. At that moment I didn't really care if we won or not, my life was over anyway.

"Come on Sam, cheer up: lots of people have been accused of crimes they didn't commit and got back on their feet," Thatcher said.

"Name one," I muttered.

"O.J. Simpson," Thatcher said after a couple of minutes pause.

I gave him an exasperated look. O.J. Simpson was a celebrity so he won his case with money.

After a long, lonely night in my cell I got up and headed back to the courthouse to continue with the circus they called a trial.

Once again we were greeted by reporters and cameramen, and the crowd of angry bystanders…didn't they have better things to do than stand outside of some courthouse and wait for a verdict?

Thatcher made sure we were early today but, no surprise there, Easton was already in his seat, looking like a cat that swallowed a canary.

"What's your game plan today Thatcher? Are you still going to try and make Winchester look the part of the innocent man who just stumbled upon his murdered family?" Easton leaned over and spoke quietly so only my lawyer and I could hear.

"At least I'm not grabbing at straws," Thatcher answered.

I let out a small groan. It was only the second day and already I wasn't sure how much longer I could take this.

I hadn't heard from nor seen Bobby or Dean. I was beginning to think that they had fallen of the face of the earth. I would really have preferred to tell them what was going on then to have them hear about it on the news or read it in the paper.

Thatcher turned to me, "how are you feeling?" He spoke as though he didn't really care how I felt at all.

"Like there's a noose around my neck and it's slowly getting tighter and tighter," I answered.

"All rise for the honourable Judge Browning," the bailiff said and everyone stood until Browning had seated herself.

"I'm glad to see you're here bright and early Thatcher," Browning said.

My lawyer looked down at the tabletop and nodded, embarrassed that he had been called out again.

Today was Easton's chance to present his evidence against me.

He began by once again mentioning that one side effect of amitriptyline was confusion, the side effects of lithium were blackout spells, poor memory, slow thinking, startle responses and hallucinations.

Easton asked me if I had experienced any of those side effects since I started taking the medications.

"No," I answered.

"No? Are you sure? Maybe you can't remember if you had any of the side effects?" Easton chuckled.

"Your Honour, the defense is mocking the witness," Thatcher spoke up.

"Mr. Easton, I would warn you to keep your opinions to yourself," Browning said.

Easton cleared his throat.

"Mr. Winchester, can you describe this 'accident' you were in that caused the Post-Traumatic Stress?"

I paused. Oh shit, Dean hadn't told me the story he'd made up for the doctors when they brought me in after I had stabbed myself.

I looked to Thatcher as if he could help. He looked back at me with an expectant expression.

"Mr. Winchester? Will you answer the question?" Judge Browning asked.

"I, uh…I can't, your Honour," I answered.

"You can't?" Judge Browning said questioningly.

I knew I was under oath but I couldn't pull some tale out of thin air that quickly, I was nervous and I couldn't seem to think straight.

"He can't just not answer the question!" Easton exclaimed.

"Can you tell me why the question is relevant to this case?" Judge Browning asked the DA.

"So we know why Mr. Winchester was prescribed the medicines," Easton said with confidence.

The Judge thought for a moment and then decided the question didn't pertain to the case at hand all that much. She said that all that was important was that I was taking medication for PTSD, that the cause was irrelevant. Easton seemed to wilt for a moment.

The man glared daggers at me and stepped up close to the witness' stand.

"I know you did it Winchester and I'll make sure you pay for it!" Easton shouted. Yeah, he actually shouted at me, spittle flying out of his mouth and everything.

I jerked back in the chair, shocked by the sudden barrage.

"Mr. Easton, I have a right mind to hold you in contempt of this court!" The Judge hammered her gavel on the bench and shouted at the district attorney.

Easton stormed away from me and poured himself some water which he drank noisily.

"Do you have any further questions for Mr. Winchester?" Judge Browning asked.

"No," Easton said and I sat back down beside Thatcher.

After a few minutes to gather his composure, Easton called his first witness to the stand.

A doctor McCarthy, a female doc came to take the stand. She had been the one to do the autopsies on Sarah and Faith and Aaron.

Easton asked her the cause of death for each family member.

"It was all the same: all three victims suffered massive blood loss and organ failure caused by multiple stab wounds," Dr. McCarthy answered.

She appeared to be a severe, humorless woman in her late forties. She had her red hair in a tight bun and wore a grey pant suit.

"Can you describe the types of wounds? What weapon would cause such damage?" Easton asked.

I felt my mouth go dry. Sarah and Faith and Aaron had been stabbed…

The weapon the doctor described would have had a blade a little longer than that of a steak knife, with a serrated edge.

Easton turned the Judge, "may I present some evidence?"

"Yes," the Judge said and my stomach dropped when the DA produced an enlarged photo of Sarah's corpse.

My wife's body was lying with her limbs akimbo on a stainless steel table. She had numerous wounds in her upper body.

I closed my eyes. I was going to be sick.

I listened as the doctor explained that whoever had killed Sarah was both in a very emotional state at the time of the murder, and had knowledge of human anatomy.

"Your Honour, unless Mr. Easton can produce the murder weapon itself, the visuals are unnecessary," Thatcher spoke up and I opened my eyes again.

The Judge looked at Easton and the DA grudgingly put the photograph away. I looked behind me and could see by the expressions on the faces of the jurors that they did not require a visual either.

Easton looked smug again, "as it so happens, I do have the murder weapon!"

I looked at Thatcher who stared back at me, as confused as I was.

With a flourish, Easton took a clear plastic Evidence baggie from his satchel. Should he really be keeping his evidence in there?

I went numb with shock as the DA held up the baggie for everyone to see and I could clearly see Ruby's blade in it.

My mouth dropped open with shock! Ruby's demon killing knife was the only weapon I took with me when I had finally settled in Petite. I had the blade hidden away from Sarah and the kids; it had been in a locked safe in the farthest corner of the barn. Only I knew where it was.

There was no way some stranger would be able to find it and open the container it was in (a custom-made one I had borrowed from Bobby).

Relax, I told myself. You didn't kill them, so your fingerprints won't be on it…but maybe the murderer's will be.

"This was found on Mr. Winchester's front lawn by a Deputy Leo Larkin of the Petite Police Department," Easton explained.

Where the hell was Easton pulling all this evidence from? Shouldn't Thatcher have been made aware of such things? Isn't that the way lawyers worked?

"Unfortunately we were unable to obtain any usable fingerprints from the weapon," Easton said with regret.

"But the weapon did have blood on it, blood that was traced back to the three victims," The DA finished.

For Easton's final piece of damning evidence he took out a tape recorder and played back the phone message from the Petite PD. The DA made sure to play the part where I had, in my state of shock, said it was my fault that my family was dead. The bastard played that part of the recording six times and then gave the jury a rhetorical question: if I was innocent, why would I say it was my fault that my wife and children were dead?

Once again Easton called me to the witness' stand and asked me about Ruby's knife.

When asked I said that I had the knife for its sentimental value (which was a lie: Dean insisted I take it just in case I needed to protect my family. The rest of the weapons, including the Colt, were back at Dean's house). I said that the knife had once belonged to my deceased father, an avid hunter. I had locked it up and hidden it so my kids would not accidently come across it. Yes, I was the only one who knew the combination for the lock on the box.

"Your Honour, we have already established that it would be implausible for my client to have driven from Butte to Petite, murder his family and clean up, and drive back to work so that final question is redundant," Thatcher said.

The Judge nodded. Easton finished his questioning and I sat back down to see what next piece of evidence the DA had up his sleeve.

"After recalling the fact that Mr. Winchester does not remember murdering his wife and children I think it is safe to say that he was not a healthy state of mind when he committed the crime, Easton said.

"But there were no witnesses who can claim they saw anyone else near the Winchester household the night of the murders and you do have Mr. Winchester's own confession on tape, recorded most likely after he had come to his senses!" Easton continued. How could the Judge let him go on like that?

Easton had apparently decided to change his strategy of trying to get a First or Second Degree murder charge and instead wanted to focus on my mental state.

This trial was spinning out of control… it felt rigged against me. There was no way some of the proceedings would have been kosher. Something was definitely wrong with this.

After Easton had presented his evidence the Judge called a recess.

Everyone had filed out except for Thatcher, Easton, myself and an officer.

My lawyer walked over to Easton and stood with his hands on the table.

"What are you doing," Thatcher demanded.

"I am winning my case, Thatcher," Easton said calmly.

"You can't just claim that my client is not mentally stable!" Thatcher said.

Easton shrugged.

"I would advise you to have Mr. Winchester have a psychological evaluation," Easton said.

Thatcher eyed the DA suspiciously.

"Hey, I still think he's guilty, it just depends now on whether he was in a competent state of mind when he murdered his poor family," Easton continued.

"There is no way my client could have killed his family," Thatcher insisted.

"I know, you keep saying that but if he didn't do it than who did? There is evidence that shows only he could have committed the crime," Easton said and took a drink of water.

"He could not have been in two places at once! He was at work the entire day and he wouldn't have had time to kill his family," Thatcher said.

"You're preaching to the wrong guy, Thatcher, save it for the jury," Easton said.

Thatcher said nothing, I could see his jaw working but he kept silent. He stalked back to our side and sat down.

"Something is not right," Thatcher said and took a long drink of water.

When everyone returned after recess Easton convinced Judge Browning to have the trial suspended so I could take a psychiatric evaluation before proceeding any farther.

Thatcher stayed with me at the jailhouse when the doctor from a local mental hospital came to conduct the evaluation. I guess he wanted to be the first to know if I was crazy or not.

I had no idea what to expect. Some of the questions were simple, logical ones that anyone would be able to answer but others caught me off guard. All the while the doctor had a poker face on, no emotion to tell me if I was passing or failing.

When the evaluation was over, the doctor and Thatcher spoke in private for a long while and then both left without saying a word to me. I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had failed the test.

No more evidence was presented. No more witnesses were questioned. Easton looked as smug as ever, he could barely suppress his grin. Thatcher had a defeated expression, a look that I didn't like at all. Once more I had to ask Thatcher if he believed I had killed my family, I just wanted to know one person believed I was not guilty.

The lawyer shook his head, "no, I believe you are innocent."

I looked at him in disbelief, only a few days ago he thought I was the one. I guessed that the fact the timeframe didn't match up made it easier to believe I wasn't guilty.

"Mr. Thatcher would you like to make a closing statement?" Judge Browning asked.

"Yes, your Honour," The lawyer stood and faced the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask you to take a moment and look at Mr. Winchester," Thatcher paused as the jurors obeyed.

"What you see before you is an innocent man. A loving husband and devoted father who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. For those of you who are married, I want you to ponder what it would be like if you were to trade places with Mr. Winchester. How would you feel if those men and women who say they serve Lady Justice were to point their finger at you, condemn you for murdering your own loved ones?

I believe that the justice system has failed Mr. Winchester today. My client has long maintained his innocence and instead of aiding Mr. Winchester in his time of grief, we have thrown him to the dogs. There is something seriously wrong with the justice system of this country that would allow an innocent man to be punished for a crime he did not commit simply due to the fact that no one bothered to search any further than this man's front door," Thatcher finished his speech with an angry look in his eyes.

I could tell that he truly believe what he was saying, though it did nothing to make me feel any better.

"Mr. Winchester, how do you plead?" Judge Browning asked.

"Not guilty, your Honour," I answered.

Easton shook his head with sad humour.

"Is something amusing, Mr. Easton?" the Judge snapped.

"No, your Honour," Easton said. He was happy. In his closing statement he had made me out to be some unstable degenerate. He painted Sarah and my children as my poor victims, getting the jury to sympathize with them and see me as a monster, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

The trial was concluded and the jury sent to deliberate.

"We have a fifty-fifty chance with this," Thatcher said, "I saw a number of the men nodding when I spoke."

"What about Easton's statement?" I asked. We were back at the jail. The jury must indeed be divided because they still had no verdict.

"The women in the jury will go with Easton's bullshit," Thatcher said.

"How long is this going to take?" I wanted to know.

Thatcher shrugged, "it could be hours or days. The jury has to come to a unanimous decision and it may take a while to sway some members one way or the other."

I wanted to have Dean with me but he seemed to have disappeared. Did he think I had killed my family? Is that why he stayed away? How could he even consider the idea that I would kill Sarah and our children?

The jury took eighteen hours to come to a decision. For the final time, Thatcher and I drove to the courthouse. This morning the mob of people was oddly silent, as though they were holding their breath. Even the reporters stood back. I felt like a marked man. I saw dozens of hate-filled eyes follow me up the steps of the courthouse. Was no one on my side?

I took my usual seat as we entered the courtroom. The jury members looked exhausted; they must have spent the night deliberating.

Easton wore a black suit and black tie; he would have looked ready for a funeral except for his upturned lips.

Judge Browning entered the room and took her seat.

"Has the jury come to a decision?" The Judge asked even though it was obvious they had.

A woman stood up. She was very thin with a pinched face, dark eyes against her pale complexion and grey hair. She wore a flower-print dress.

"Yes, your Honour," The woman said in a harsh voice.

My heart was pounding in my chest so hard I swore everyone could hear it.

"We, the jury, find Mr. Sam Winchester not guilty by reason of insanity," the woman spoke quickly, as though wanted to get the words out of her mouth as soon as possible.

My mouth dropped open. Not guilty by reason of insanity! I was shocked. I looked to Thatcher who stared straight ahead.

I didn't even want to see Easton's face. I was sure he wanted to jump with joy. In the end, he had really won. Even though it wasn't a guilty conviction it was just as bad- it meant that I had not been responsible for the murder of my family because I was crazy and hadn't know what I was doing at the time of the crime.

But the evidence had shown I couldn't have done it! Didn't the jury listen?

This can't be happening to me, this can't be happening…

I didn't even hear what the Judge said next. The officer who had driven me to the courthouse took my arm and the next thing I knew I was walking down the hallway, toward the door.

I glanced at the eight foot high marble statue of Lady Justice that stood in the lobby of the courthouse: she had the scales in one hand, a sword in the other and a blindfold over her eyes.

Out of the blue, the lyrics for one of Dean's favorite Metallica songs, 'And Justice For All', popped into my head and I couldn't help but agree with them.

The cop guided me out the doors of the courthouse and through the screaming, cheering mod. They were happy I had lost. Though I hadn't been deemed guilty, I still wasn't free.

Amid the noise of the crowd I heard someone call my name: Sam!

I looked around, trying to spot the person who had spoken. All I saw was a sea of unfamiliar faces. I glanced to my left and spotted her.

The young woman with long, curly black looked familiar…where had I seen her before?

She stood in front of the crowd, just behind a police barrier. She was grinning broadly and wagging her fingers in a cheery wave.

Who? I thought and then I suddenly recalled her face. Meg!

"Meg!" I shouted.

"C'mon," The officer said in a distracted tone.

What was Meg doing here? I had not seen her since the night Ellen and Jo died.

I turned again and Meg blew me a kiss and disappeared into the knot of people.

"Meg! You bitch!" I shouted, trying to pull away from the officer's grasp.

Meg knew about this, she had to. Why else would she be here? Now? Maybe she knew who had killed my family…maybe she killed them.

The cop got me into the back seat of the cruiser and pulled away from the courthouse.

I realized with horror that we must be going to a hospital for the mentally insane. I trembled with fear, the last time I had set foot in one of those buildings, Dean and I had almost been killed by a wraith.

"I'm not crazy, I'm not. Don't take me to some asylum," I said to the officer. My pleas fell on deaf ears.

My fear grew as we drove outside of the city and toward the gates of a large, stone building.

My breath was coming in gasps, I was close to panic. I watched as we drove through the gates toward the snow- covered lawn of the hospital.

This can't be happening to me, I thought, this is wrong, I can't be here!

"Please don't do this," I begged, "take me back to jail; put me on death row, I don't care. Just don't take me inside."

"Sorry pal, this is the best place for ya. They're going to get you the help you need," the cop said.

I watched as two doctors clad in white lab coats stepped out the meet us as the cop pulled up to the doors.

The first doctor, a middle aged man with thinning brown hair looked at me through the window with a sympathetic expression.

The second doc was a young black woman with long hair in a ponytail and a thin face.

The cop opened the passenger door and helped me out.

"You can uncuff him officer," the first doctor said.

The cop obeyed and unlocked the cuffs. I glanced back at the gate and wondered if I'd be able to make a run for it.

"Come inside with us, son," the male doc said and reached out and took my arm.

"This is a mistake, I am not crazy," I told him.

The doctor nodded.

We walked down the sterile hall. The male doc still had one hand on my arm. The female doctor walked behind us.

"Has his medical information come in yet?" The first doc asked the second one.

"It will be here later today," the female doctor said.

I lowered my head, defeated.

I was taken to a room that looked like any doctor's office and had a physical exam. I exchanged my suit for hospital clothes.

Next I was led down the hall by the two doctors to a room that had a small bed and small, barred window.

"I'll come back in a few hours when your information comes in," the doctor said and walked toward the door.

"What am I supposed to do until then?" I asked, not that I was looking forward to having a conversation with the doc later anyway.

"Relax, make yourself at home. You'll be here for a long, long time," the doctor said and locked the door when he left.

He glanced at me through the little window in the door and I saw his eyes flash black for a second.

"No! Let me out of here you son of a bitch!" I shouted, "let me out!"

The demon doctor smirked and walked away, keeping stride with the female doc.

I paced and paced and paced. Of course it was demons, they must have rigged the trial, but why? What did they want with me?

I could tell that the day was growing later and later by the shadows cast by the slowly setting sun. Neither doctor returned.

Soon it was dark and I was still alone.

I heard heavy footfalls coming down the hall. The demon was coming back!

I stepped up to the door and peered through the window. I was surprised not to see the demon doc but Dean.

My brother stared at me as though he had never seen me before.

"Dean, where have you been?" I asked. He chooses to appear now, of all times? Now?

Dean glared at me. His face was a mask of anger and revulsion.

"Dean, I'm glad you're here. You have to get me out of this place…the doctor is a demon…" My voice trailed away as I continued to look at my brother, his expression hardened.

"Dean? Say something, please…" I put my hands against the cool metal of the door.

"You really are the monster everyone always said you were," Dean whispered with barely contained anger.

"I didn't do it! Don't listen them, I'm innocent!" I shouted. How could Dean believe I would ever harm Sarah and my children?

"Dean, you have to let me out of here! It was demons, they killed Sarah and Faith and Aaron!" I begged my brother.

"You can rot in there for all I care, Sam. I never want to see you again," Dean said and stepped away from the door.

"No, Dean! Don't leave me alone! Please come back! Dean! Dean! Please!" I shouted as my brother walked down the hall.

The lights in the hall and room went out suddenly, leaving me in darkness.

My heart pounded painfully. I gasped for breath. I couldn't see anything in front of me.

"Someone turn on the lights!" I shouted. I was close to panic.

I hit the door with balled fists. This was all wrong. This was a mistake. I wanted Dean and Bobby to get me out of here.

"Turn on the lights! Hey! Can you hear me?" I shouted.

I stopped when the temperature in the room dropped. If it wasn't so dark I was sure I'd be able to see my breath.

Frost crackled on the windows. A ghost couldn't make it that cold.

"Hello?" I asked, timidly.

The temperature continued to drop. I shivered.

I stared wide-eyed around the room. I still couldn't see anything.

My breath caught in my throat when I heard a familiar chuckle.

"God, please no," I whispered.

"Sam," a voice hissed.

"You're dead. I killed you," I said and backed up against the door.

"You cannot kill me, Sam Winchester," Lucifer said.

"You murdered my family," I said.

"Yes," Lucifer said.

I felt hot tears run down my face.

"You son of a bitch," I whispered.

Lucifer chuckled.

"As long as you are alive, Sam Winchester, I will take every ounce of happiness from you. You will never escape me; I will always be just around the next corner, waiting for you. You will be begging to say 'yes' in the end because I am the only who has not deserted you," Lucifer said.

"No, please, this can't be happening, please say it's not true," I cried.

Lucifer chuckled…


	14. Reach For The Sky

I woke gasping for air. I was covered in a cold sweat.

I trembled. I looked around myself in the darkness and was comforted by the sight of Sarah sleeping peacefully beside me.

It had been a nightmare, only a nightmare.

I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for my heart to stop pounding.

This was the third night in a row that I had had that nightmare. Normally my nightmares did not reoccur, especially day after day.

I quietly changed my clothes to a pair of old jeans and a grey t-shirt. I leaned over and kissed Sarah's cheek gently.

I padded down the hall to Faith's room and peered in. She was sleeping with her favorite stuffed teddy bear. Aaron's room was dimly lit by a blue nightlight. I saw the mobile turning slowly above his crib. I went downstairs, pulled on a pair of black rubber boots and headed out to the barn. I turned on the light and greeted the horses. Duncan whinnied and stretched his nose forward.

Ginger stomped her hooves and tossed her mane. Marlowe raised his graying head and snorted.

I walked to the horses' stalls and opened the doors. The animals stepped out and headed to the open doors of the barn. They knew where to go. I walked along beside Marlowe and once we were outside I opened the pasture gate and watched the horses file in.

It was early morning; the sky was a grayish colour, turning to pink on the horizon.

I returned to the barn and began cleaning out the horses' stalls, shoveling old straw and manure into a blue wheelbarrow. Old Thomas Addison would come by later today and pick up it up and use it to fertilize his pumpkins.

After mucking out each stall and spreading out fresh straw I put clean water in the troughs and set out oats for the horses.

I walked out of the barn when I finished and saw that Marlowe was standing at the fence.

"Hey old boy," I said and patted the gelding's muzzle.

I was worried about this dream. It was almost like a vision but I hadn't had one of those in years so I was skeptical. I knew that Lucifer was dead. Why would he wait so long to make a move against me? No, the Devil was dead and I was reacting to the stress of having a newborn baby in the house again. Maybe I should tell Dean about it, just in case.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked the horse.

Marlowe closed his eyes as I continued to pat his nose.

To tell or not to tell, that is the question.

I sighed and decided I would wait until I saw my brother next before choosing whether to tell him about the nightmare or not.

I went back inside, turned on the coffee maker, went upstairs and grabbed clean clothes and took a shower.

When I left the bathroom, Sarah was standing in the hall, ready for her turn.

"Faith is still asleep," Sarah said.

"Okay. Do you want me to wake her?" I asked.

"No, I'll get her up when I've finished showering," Sarah said.

I nodded and kissed my wife.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Sarah asked.

"Of course," I said, "why?"

"You have that look on your face you only get when something's bothering you," Sarah answered.

I shook my head, "I'm fine."

I smiled and walked to our bedroom to put my dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. While in the bathroom I had changed into a pair of clean jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt.

I made my way back downstairs and poured myself a mug of coffee, adding a little milk. I set out Faith's pink plastic bowl and matching spoon on the kitchen table and took a box of Lucky Charms from the pantry. I put the pitcher of milk within reach of my daughter's chair. I looked at the baby monitor sitting on the counter. Aaron was still fast asleep then. Of course he would be, he almost always cried long into the night even when Sarah or I had tried everything to quiet him.

I stood and looked out the window as I drank my coffee. I listened as Sarah turned the water on and off within ten minutes.

It was a Saturday and I was happy I didn't have to go to work today. I worked six days a week, with every other Saturday and every Sunday off because the library was closed. The nightmare was still too fresh in my mind to make me comfortable about driving to Butte.

I had just poured my second cup of coffee when Faith came hurrying down the stairs.

"Daddy!" the little girl shouted and hugged me around the legs.

I set my cup on the counter and picked my daughter up.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I smiled.

Faith grinned at me and threw her arms around my neck in a hug. Her large, dark blue eyes (violet eyes, Sarah called them) were bright and alert; Faith was full of energy and ready to take on the day. Her chestnut brown hair lay in loose curls on her shoulders.

Sarah came downstairs with a happy expression. She held Aaron against her shoulder. When she entered the kitchen she sat Aaron down in his high-chair. He looked around and smiled and giggled. He had black hair and dark brown eyes the colour of fresh brewed coffee. He was wearing a pair of green footie pajamas.

I set Faith down and the little girl went and sat on her seat. She poured a more-than-generous amount of cereal into her bowl and I added the milk.

Sarah poured herself some coffee and we leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Faith as she ate her sugary breakfast.

"How'd you sleep?" I asked Sarah.

"Great," Sarah answered and took a sip of hot coffee.

That was good. I always worried I might wake Sarah up if I had a nightmare. They only came rarely now and usually if I was stressed or physically or emotionally drained.

"Sam, if something's troubling you, you know you can talk to me about it," Sarah said as she examined my expression again.

I had not told Sarah about the nightmare. I knew it would scare her, Hell, it scared me, and I didn't want to upset Sarah.

"No, I'm fine. It's not important anyway," I answered and busied myself by pouring another cup of coffee.

Once Faith had eaten, Sarah made some cereal for Aaron and fed him while I kept our daughter entertained. When all the dishes were in the dishwasher we got ready for our weekend family walk.

Sarah took Faith and Aaron out for walks every morning and our daughter loved them but weekends were special because I would come as well.

When Sarah and I had our shoes on I knelt down to help Faith with her shoes. Sarah assisted Faith in putting on a jacket. Faith was very particular that I help her with her shoes but she wanted her mother to put her jacket on for her. Sarah strapped Aaron into his baby carriage.

We walked outside and off the porch. Faith was in the middle, holding one of my hands and one of Sarah's. I pushed Aaron along with my free hand.

"Horses!" Faith exclaimed as we walked past the pasture, "bye horsies!" Faith waved to the animals as we reached the dirt road that led to the other farms past ours.

"What time did Dean say they were coming?" Sarah asked me.

"Uh, before lunch…eleven or eleven thirty," I answered.

"Have you heard from Bobby lately?" Sarah wondered.

"He called last week. Thought there might have been a werewolf down near Billings but it was a false alarm," I replied.

"We should have Bobby over for dinner, I know it's a drive but he could stay at the farm, the guest rooms downstairs are finally finished," my wife said and I had to agree that I needed to get Bobby to come for a visit. I hadn't seen him in a while and he wasn't getting any younger.

"Daddy!" I looked down at Faith. She was staring at a milkweed plant that had a Monarch caterpillar on one of its leaves.

"You don't usually see these guys out here," I said and Sarah and I crouched and watched Faith watching the fat white, black and yellow insect munch away.

"That's a caterpillar" Sarah said. Faith had seen them before, mostly the thin, fuzzy brownish ones.

"Cat'pillar?" Faith said with a question in her voice.

The amount of wonder our daughter had for the world around us never ceased to amaze me.

After walking for twenty more minutes we turned around and headed back to the house. Sarah didn't bother taking off her shoes but grabbed her purse and headed out to the grocery store.

I stayed at home with Faith and Aaron. I placed my son in his play-pen where I could keep a close watch on him and turned my attention to Faith. I played with her for a good couple of hours, changing rapidly from hide-and-seek, follow-the-leader, and spent at least ten minutes singing Old Macdonald, thinking up a wide range of exotic animals the farmer kept with him. I gave her some paper and crayons and watched television while Faith scribbled. Sarah came back just after I had turned the TV onto some children's show.

I went into the front hall and hugged and kissed Sarah. Then I went out and grabbed the grocery bags- there was only a half-dozen. I took the bags into the kitchen and began to unpack them.

Sarah went into the living room and sat on the couch beside Faith. She gave our daughter a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. Sarah peered over the edge of the play pen and wiggled her fingers at Aaron who laughed as though Sarah had just told a joke.

When all the food was put away I went upstairs and stepped into the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the three familiar bottles from the shelf. I closed the cabinet and examined my reflection in the mirror: same long face, narrow nose, shaggy hair, green eyes as there always was…

Sometimes, though, it felt like I was an imposter, living someone else's life for them…sometimes it didn't seem too strange to believe that one of these days the real Sam Winchester would walk through the front door and demand his life back.

I swallowed the pills with a generous amount of water and walked back downstairs. Just as I reached the first floor my stomach growled, reminding me I had yet to eat today.

I went straight to the kitchen and saw there was a half-eaten loaf of bread on the microwave. I peered into the fridge and saw a couple of deli bags of cold cuts.

"Sarah, do you want a sandwich?" I called, my head still in the fridge, searching now for ketchup and mustard.

"Sure!" There was a pause and Sarah called again "Faith wants one too!"

I grabbed the cold cuts and proceeded to make the sandwiches.

I looked to the clock on the oven and smiled when I saw it read only nine- thirty.

Sandwiches for breakfast, Dean would be proud of me, I thought and chuckled.

I made Faith's food first: plain bread with turkey breast. Our daughter was going through a stage where she ate very plainly, no condiments or toppings or seasonings on food.

Sarah always laughed that at least she was eating her veggies.

We ate in the living room. Sarah and I watched the cartoon with Faith, neither of us paying much attention. When we were finished, I gathered the saucers and put them into the dishwasher. When I peered into the living room, Faith was sitting on Sarah's lap so her mother could braid her hair. Sarah had turned the channel to the Food Network and both mother and daughter were intently watching Iron Chef. I picked Aaron up and walked around with him for a few minutes, wondering if he was hungry. Aaron fell asleep with his head resting against my shoulder and I set him back down in the play pen.

I sat down on the Laz-E Boy and tried to read Ernest Hemmingway's A Farewell To Arms but I couldn't seem to concentrate.

I went back into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of orange juice and drank it in one go.

I went back into the living room and stared at the TV for a few minutes until Sarah spoke.

"Sam, you're pacing. Go outside and get some air."

"Okay," I said and made one last trip to the kitchen and grabbed three carrots.

I slipped on my shoes and stepped out onto the porch. If I was stressed about something I got to be kind of antsy, full of nervous energy. It didn't happen often and when it did it was never very bad, thankfully. Usually I just needed some time on my own to calm down, convince myself there was no reason to be anxious. Sarah didn't make a big deal about it, she'd point out if I was pacing or whatever and that'd be it. She remained calm, knowing that it would pass on its own. It was annoying more than anything else. Dean still didn't know that I was taking the medicine and I had no future plans to tell him…but that would make it difficult to relay my latest nightmare to him: he'd probably suggest I take the medicine and wouldn't that be grand when I replied 'oh, yeah, about that…I'm already taking the pills, I just didn't tell you all this time.'

I walked out to the pasture and hopped the fence. Marlowe was standing under the shade of the tree as I approached him. I held one of the carrots out on my flattened palm and the horse took the offering with what I imagined was a grateful expression.

Duncan and Ginger came over as if drawn by some special horse telepathy, eager for the treats as well.

The mare and her foal ran away with their prizes and I was left standing with the old gelding.

"Life is good, isn't it?" I asked the animal and followed as Marlowe began plodding deeper into the pasture.

I spent at least an hour in the pasture, thinking, talking aloud to Marlowe as if he could give his input. I resolved to tell Dean about my nightmare, it would come to nothing, I knew that but I needed to talk about my fears, fears I would not dare to tell Sarah about.

SPN

When I told S.J. we were going to visit Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah and his cousins, the kid couldn't have been happier than if I had told him we were going to Disney World. He knew we were going to visit them soon and every time he asked when we were going either Lisa or I would answer 'tomorrow' and S.J. would ask if it was 'tomorrow' yet.

Since it was too far to drive to Montana with a three-year-old and a large golden retriever, we always flew, to my dismay.

It may seem strange that we'd fly every month to visit my brother and his family, not to mention expensive. But, luckily for us, Bobby knew a guy who had a small plane and because he owed the old hunter a favor for getting rid of a cursed locket the poor man's wife inherited from her witch of an aunt (and I mean a real witch with warts and hex bags and sacrificing innocent rabbits and everything…okay, maybe not warts but you get the point). Anyway, the guy flew us out to Montana every month for free because 'a friend of Bobby Singer's was a friend of his'.

I had an ulterior motive for visiting Sam every month; I used these 'social calls' to check up on my brother. I know what you must be thinking: Dean, Sam is twenty-nine years old! He's not a little kid anymore; he can take care of himself.

Well, you don't know Sam very well if you believe that.

I just wanted to make sure my brother was happy because as long as he was happy I was happy.

Speaking of being happy, Bobby was not happy when I phoned him and told him Sam had miraculously recovered from his coma. Don't get me wrong, the old hunter was happy that Sam was back on his feet after such a devastating injury but Bobby wasn't happy with me. There was no way I was going to tell the old man I had put in a good word with Death and had Sam's life traded for someone else's but Bobby wasn't stupid. The old hunter had let it slide when I told him that I didn't really have an explanation for why the Seraph Blade hadn't killed Sam as well (I was going with God on that one but I still wasn't a hundred percent sure) but he knew I had been up to something when Sam woke up from his irreversible coma. Bobby didn't even tear a strip off me; he just went really quiet (we were speaking over the phone and I could just imagine the old hunter shaking his head) and told me that he hoped I had done the right thing, that I had made the right decision. For Sam's sake, Bobby had made that clear, he hoped that whatever I had done wouldn't come back badly on Sam.

It wasn't like a demon deal, though, all I had asked for was a second chance for Sam and Death had granted it with no strings attached.

We landed at the Helena airport and we piled out of the plane. I was relieved to be on solid ground again. S.J. hadn't seemed to have inherited my dislike of flying, usually he was good about being in the plane, and he'd just sleep until we landed, but today he had thrown a temper tantrum while we were in the air. There was little we could do so he had cried and screamed for a good twenty minutes until he realized he was going to stay on the plane no matter what.

As usual, we rented a car from the Hertz place beside the airport and prepared ourselves for the two hour drive to Petite.

S.J, having tired himself out from his tantrum, slept most of the way to the small town. Ben had his nose stuck in his PSP like it was glued there.

"Ben, I hope you won't have that thing on during our entire visit," Lisa said from the passenger seat.

"You listen to your mom. I don't want a repeat of our last visit," I said in a warning tone.

During our last visit, Ben had decided he needed to save the virtual world from flesh-eating zombies and had barely left the video game alone for more than a few minutes. I had had enough of Ben's unsociable attitude and took the game away from him. I ignored his protests that he was on the final level and if he stopped now he'd have to start all over again.

Well, Ben said I couldn't play the 'Dad' Card because I wasn't his father and didn't speak to me for the rest of the time we were in Petite.

I couldn't see why Ben was making a big deal about it anyway. When we returned to Cicero, Lisa grounded Ben for talking back to me and embarrassing himself as well as us (Lisa had expected more maturity on his part). I know the kid is only twelve, going on thirteen, about to start grade eight in the fall, but c'mon, was that stupid game so important? Was the world going to end if he didn't finish it?

I know, I know, I have to be the mature one.

We pulled into the long, dirt driveway of Sarah and Sam's farm. I parked our little rented car beside the pickup and we piled out. Copper ran around the cars and barked like an idiot.

Lisa and I stepped onto the porch. Ben had S.J.'s hand but still stared at the PSP. The kid was going to give himself eye strain if he didn't stop that soon.

I raised a hand to knock on the door but Sarah was way ahead of me. She opened the door and smiled.

The four of us stepped inside.

"Aunt Lisa! Uncle Dean!" Faith shouted and ran to us.

She held her hands out and I picked her up in a hug, "how's my favourite niece?"

Faith giggled and I set her down.

Sarah smiled as S.J. and Faith hugged and her little girl led my son into the living room.

"Ben, go put a movie on for them, please," Sarah asked.

"Where's the man of the house?" I asked Sarah.

"He's in the pasture with the horses, I think," she answered and she and Lisa walked into the living room to sit with the kids.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of beer and stepped outside. Copper was sniffing the front lawn like there was something fascinating hidden there.

I climbed over the fence and walked into the field. I could hear crickets chirrup and grasshoppers leaped out of my way as I strolled on.

I found Sam lying on his back, his hands under his head and his eyes closed under the oak tree. He appeared to be sleeping.

I lowered one of the bottles, "hey, Sleeping Beauty, your way past your wake up call."

My brother opened his eyes and smiled. He sat up and took the offered beer.

Sam stood up and chuckled, shaking his head.

"What?" I asked and took a sip of my own beer.

"You know you don't have to keep coming up here every month," Sam said and opened the bottle of beer, putting the cap in his pocket.

"Well, I know I don't have to but I'd miss Sarah's cooking way too much," I said jokingly.

"I'm not stupid, Dean. I know you're checking up on me," Sam answered, serious now.

"I'm not 'checking up on you' I'm just…" I couldn't find the right words.

"You're just making sure nothing is wrong, you want to make sure I'm still in one piece," Sam answered and took a drink of beer.

"You're my little brother Sam; I'm always going to worry about you, I just want to make sure everything is alright and that you're happy," I said and walked a little out of the shade of the oak tree.

Sam followed and looked to see the horses cropping at the grass a few yards away. A troubled expression ghosted across my brother's face before it disappeared and his contented countenance returned.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, looking at my brother's green eyes and saw that haunted look that had not left since he had been 'ill' two years ago.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a telltale gesture that signaled he was, in fact, bothered by something.

"I... I need to talk to you about something Dean…" Sam looked up at me and I could see he was struggling with the idea of telling me whatever it was.

"What is it?" I asked, I was kind of worried now.

"I, uh, I had this nightmare last night. God, I don't know how to describe it without sounding crazy!" Sam exclaimed.

He seemed very on-edge and that surprised me: he had never been like this whenever I had visited previously.

I said nothing; I just drank my beer and let Sam sort things out on his own.

Sam cleared his throat, apparently he realized he was acting agitated and was making an effort to stop.

"I dreamt that I had been driving home late from Butte on day and I found Sarah and the kids…Sarah and Faith and Aaron were….dead…." Sam said sadly.

I allowed him to continue.

Sam went on to describe that his family hadn't just up and died, that they had been murdered, practically butchered. Sam told me about how he was arrested and accused of murdering his wife and children and the joke of a court trial. He told me about the circumstantial evidence the prosecution had brought up; he told me that I did not once show up while he was in jail. He told me what the jury's verdict had been and how he had seen Meg in the crowd outside of the courthouse. He told me about the freaky demon doctor at the asylum and how I had finally made an appearance only to condemn him.

"Is there more?" I asked. I could hardly believe Sam would think of something like this, okay, well not Sam, more like his sub-conscious self but still.

"Yeah, it got really cold and…and Lucifer appeared. He was the one who killed them, either he killed them himself or he had some demon do it… he said I would never be happy, that he would take away any happiness I had…" Sam stopped speaking and looked at the ground.

I took a deep breath. So this was what was causing Sam so much grief. He wasn't sure if Lucifer was dead. I knew that the Devil was dead, there was no way in Hell (pardon the pun) even he could survive being stabbed with his own Seraph Blade.

I set the bottle down on the ground and put two hands on my brother's shoulders.

"Look at me Sam," I commanded and his green eyes peered up at me, filled with fear.

"Lucifer is dead, he is. I was there, you killed him, okay? There is no way he could have lived through that- he may have been strong but he had the same weaknesses as every other angel. Lucifer. Is. Dead. You know he's dead right?" I paused and Sam nodded.

I released Sam's shoulders and heaved a sigh. Sam had been worried this entire time that Lucifer was still alive and kicking, thirsting for revenge but I had to believe otherwise. Sam had nearly preformed Seppuku on himself, there was no possible way the Devil could have survived being stabbed by his own weapon.

"I'm just so afraid that since I survived maybe he did," Sam whispered, still unsure.

I didn't know what to tell him. I could say that Lucifer was dead till I was blue in the face but I still thought Sam would doubt.

"Let's go inside and see if the ladies need any help with the rugrats," I said and picked up my beer bottle.

"One minute," Sam said and made a beeline for the barn.

Why were we going to the barn?

I waited on the ground while Sam went into the loft. I could hear him moving around, pushing piles of straw out of the way and then he climbed back down the ladder not five minutes later with a small tin box under his arm.

I recognized the box as the one that Bobby had let Sam borrow to keep Ruby's knife in. The box was closed with a Dudley combination lock. Sam held the box out to me.

"You take it Dean, I don't want it anymore," he said and proffered the box.

"Sam, you keep it. You need something to protect yourself with in case…" I didn't finish the sentence, I didn't have to.

Sam shook his head, "I don't feel comfortable with it here. Anyway, I can protect myself without the knife: I know how to exorcise without having a book in front of me; I can draw Devil's Traps…"

Sam didn't want that knife anywhere near his family so he was trying to give it back to me, but if I traded him the Colt for the knife would he refuse? Did it matter?

"No one's going to come after Sarah and the kids," I said.

"Then I don't need this than do I?" Sam asked rhetorically.

"Sam. Keep it!" I demanded of him.

"No, I am not going to keep something dangerous lying around where anyone can find it," Sam replied.

"I am not having this argument with you," I said and raised a hand to dismiss him.

"You're taking this back to Indiana with you," Sam said. I could see that he really didn't want the knife with him but I ignored him.

"What is wrong with you? I am trying to find ways to protect you that don't involve me actually being here and you just don't care?" I snapped.

"I am trying to protect my own family, Dean. What don't you understand about that?" Sam asked, he was getting angry, I could see it on his face.

"And what's to stop Lucifer from grabbing a knife from the kitchen if I do take Ruby's?" I demanded before I could stop myself.

Sam paused and blinked, as stunned as I was that I had said what I did.

"I didn't mean it Sam," I said immediately.

I had just wanted to let him know that if any preternatural creature intended to harm his family they would find a way, whether they could get a hold of the demon knife or not.

"Dean," Sam said carefully. He didn't look at me.

"Sam, you know I'd be devastated if anything happened to Sarah and the kids," I said just as carefully.

Still Sam would not look at me. He was taking deep breaths as though he was fighting off a panic attack or something, I didn't know.

"Sam? Sammy?" I stepped forward and put a hand on my brother's shoulder.

"I can't take it anymore Dean," Sam whispered.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked. All the anger inside me had been extinguished as soon as I saw my brother was struggling.

"This! This life. I feel like I'm living a lie and I can't stand it anymore!" Sam exclaimed, he looked at me with a sad expression in his green eyes.

Once again I was stunned into silence. I was confused.

"Whatever's wrong we'll fix it, okay? We always do," I said, trying to comfort my brother.

Sam. Ever since he had been brought back he had been different, damaged, not like the old Sam. I knew that, of course I did, but sometimes I wished I could have my old brother back, the one who was so sure of himself all the time, the brother who never took shit from anyone. I didn't want this new Sam. This new Sam had wounds that seemed would never heal, wounds I would never understand and a part of me resented him for that. A part of me hated the fact that this new Sam was so weak. I liked to believe I had recovered from my stay Downstairs and silently demanded that Sam get over his. But it was a lie, in reality, although I rarely thought about it at all, I still had my own wounds, scars by now but wounds all the same.

If you're going through Hell, keep going; didn't Winston Churchill say that once? I had gotten through my own Hell, it was difficult and painful, yes, but I had come out on the other side with battle scars but nothing compared to Sam's. I had a feeling Sam was still in Hell (metaphorically speaking) that he was trapped and had lost the road.

I needed to help Sam, lead him out of his personal Hell but I was reluctant to stray into that territory. I was afraid of revealing to Sam secrets I had been keeping from him: like the deal I had made with Death, for example.

I sighed and continued to comfort my brother. After a few minutes, Sam gained his composure and sighed.

He looked at me sheepishly and I shrugged.

"Let's go inside," I said.

Sam sat the box with the knife in it on the floor by the barn door and we walked to the house.

I didn't know what to do. I was shocked at Sam's reaction. I wasn't sure I understood how Sam was feeling and I didn't know why he would feel the way he was. For all intents and purposes he appeared to be happy and well adjusted but our conversation had just revealed there was trouble in paradise.

Before we stepped inside Sam turned to me.

"If you don't take the knife, I'll give it to Bobby for safekeeping."

"I'd really prefer if you kept it Sam," I said.

"What do you want me to do? Keep it in the knife-drawer?" Sam asked but he smiled slightly.

"No, I'd feel better if you slept with it under your pillow but I doubt that's going to happen," I joked and smiled with my brother.

Sam gave a low chuckle and we went inside.

Faith, S.J. and Ben were sitting on the couch in the living room watching that Finding Nemo movie. Ben was probably bored out of his mind but he just sat in between his brother and cousin without a word. I noticed he didn't have his PSP with him and thought that maybe Lisa had taken it away from him.

Sarah and Lisa were in the kitchen, drinking wine and chatting. The scent of tomato sauce, basil, garlic and Italian seasonings wafted from the kitchen. Lisa was cradling Aaron and cooing to him as she rocked him back and forth. I was amazed at how big he had gotten in only a couple of months.

"Spaghetti?" I asked as Sam grabbed a couple of wine glasses from the cabinet and poured some red wine into them. Yeah, Sam and I drink wine now.

"Yup, I need to practice my sauce making skills," Sarah said as Sam and I sat down.

"It smells great," Sam said and took at sip of wine.

The four of us sat and talked for a while, waiting for the sauce to cook. Aaron was back in his play pen in the living room, taking a nap. After a while, since it was still too early to prepare dinner, Sarah grabbed a deck of cards and poker chips and we played. When we had first met Sarah she had no idea how to play poker, she knew games like crib and bridge, so Sam had taken it upon himself to teach her. Sarah was good, but not as good as Sam or I.

"It's hardly worth playing with you two since you always win," Lisa laughed as she shuffled the cards for our fifth round.

Usually Lisa and Sarah would end up folding and it was between Sam and I. Personally, I think they just liked to watch the amount of concentration Sam and I had when we played.

We ate dinner early. The pasta was good; I don't know why Sarah needed to 'practice' her cooking skills.

It amused me that Faith ate just plain pasta, with absolutely nothing on it. The girl refused any sauce whatsoever and ate as though the noodles were some sort of delicacy. S.J., on the other hand was not a picky eater at all. He ate anything and everything. Sarah took turns feeding herself and Aaron. She would spoon some cereal up for Aaron and then take a bite of her own dinner.

Sam and I washed the dishes, making small talk really; I told him how my contracting business was going, Sam told me how he was thinking of hiring some more people at the library, etc.

When the dishes were clean and back in the cupboards and drawers, Sarah and Lisa practically kicked us out of the house, saying they wanted some time to talk about girl stuff. Sam and I just shook our heads and went outside. We got into Sam's pickup truck and drove far down the road until we were past the farms and entering pure prairie.

It was just before sundown and the sky was a brilliant rose colour, darkening to violet. Sam turned off the engine and we sat in silence for a number of minutes.

"What's on your mind?" I asked my brother; in the fading light I could discern his pensive expression.

"I'm not sure…I mean, I know but I don't know quite how to put it into words," Sam said.

There was a pregnant pause and I finally spoke.

"Is it about what you said earlier?" I guessed.

"Sort of. I guess so," Sam was still reluctant to speak.

I watched the sun make its descent below the horizon and waited for Sam to speak as I watched the sky turn indigo, violet, navy blue...

"It's just…oh, never mind," Sam finally said and I was slightly disappointed and relieved at the same time.

I wanted to know if something was wrong but at the same time I didn't want to divulge any secrets I was keeping hidden from my brother.

Sam and I sat quietly in the cab of the truck and watched the stars appear in the inky sky. The moon rose, fat and full, tinged a red colour that the superstitious believe foretells evil to come.

Sam had just turned on the truck's engine and we were just about to go back to the farm when we jumped at a sharp tapping on the driver's window.

My brother peered out the window, confused for a moment and then stepped outside in a quick motion.

I peered around and saw two figures in dark field.

Sam stuck his head in the truck and motioned for me to step out.

I wasn't sure what was going on, I thought that maybe someone thought we were trespassing and had called the cops but in the glare of the pickups headlights I could make out that one of the figures was wearing a dark greatcoat and the other a tan trench coat.

"Cas? Abdiel?" I asked as I stepped around the front of the truck and sure enough the two angels stood there, looking almost exactly like they had the last time I had seen them.

"Hello Dean," Cas said in his gravelly voice.

Abdiel tipped his hat to me. Both angels looked tired and haggard.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked Abdiel.

"We need your help," Abdiel answered.

"Hold on a minute guys, I thought we were retired," I said and held up my hands.

"This will not take long, Dean. We need you to retrieve the Horsemen's rings for us," Cas said.

"Why would you two need the rings?" I asked, unable to hide the suspicion from my voice.

"We are losing the battle, Dean. Raphael is much stronger than we anticipated and Belial has also decided to fight us- the fallen angels want back into Heaven," Cas answered.

"So in a nutshell, we're fighting two enemies at the same time. Our forces are divided and because of that we are not as strong as we need to be to defeat Raphael and Belial," Abdiel added. He looked in the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a book of matches and a cigarette. The angel lit the cigarette and sighed in a tired sort of way.

"Divide and conquer," Sam muttered. He looked to me with one eyebrow raised and a questioning look on his face. This was my decision- only Bobby and I knew where the Horsemen's rings were.

I wasn't sure what to say. Of course I wanted to help the angels out but, then again, I didn't want to get involved in something I couldn't get out of.

"Why do you need them?" I asked.

"Even all of our forces, as they are split in two, cannot hope of defeating either Raphael or Belial so we require the assistance of a powerful ally-" Cas began but Abdiel cut him off, apparently annoyed in the other angel's long-winded explanation.

"We need to spring Michael from Lucifer's cage," Abdiel said and blew out a stream of white cigarette smoke.

I blinked, stunned.

"You want to let Michael out in the hopes that he'll agree to fight Raphael?" Sam asked.

"That was pretty much the plan, mate," Abdiel said.

"I thought Raphael and Michael were all chummy with each other, why would they want to go at it against one another?" I asked. I was under the impression that the two archangels were in cahoots.

"Michael is very arrogant and jealous, he will surely be affronted by the fact that Raphael is attempting to rule," Cas said matter-of-factly.

"If, and this is a big 'if'. If we get you the rings and you let Michael out, that's it right? Sam and I are not involved any farther than that, right?" I asked. I rubbed my face with one hand and looked at Sam.

"Just get us the rings and we'll do the rest," Abdiel said.

"Okay, I'll go get them," I said and Sam nodded in agreement.

"Cas, we need to go to Bobby's," I said and the angel stepped forward to put a hand on my sleeve.

The sense of vertigo was so strong it nearly made me blackout- it had been a long time since I had travelled by angel teleportation.

We landed on our feet in the midst of Bobby's junk yard (luckily I had remembered at the last moment to bend my knees). Cas strode off in the direction of the old hunter's house without saying a word.

"Hold on Cas," I said and had to jog to keep pace with the angel.

Cas stopped and looked at me. I wondered if he was still upset about God possibly saving Sam from dying when he had stabbed himself with the Seraph Blade.

"Abdiel told me you bargained with Death to save your brother's life," Cas said in an accusatory voice.

"Well, I mean it wasn't much of a bargain. I just asked him and he said yes," I said with a cocky smirk.

Cas glared daggers at me.

"Sometimes your stupidity astounds me, Dean," the angel said.

"Hey! I couldn't just let Sam die in some hospital in Alaska," I said, "He would have done the same for me if our situations were reversed."

"Dean, your brother was not meant to live. What you did now affects Sam and everyone he comes into contact with," Cas answered.

I thought about earlier that day when Sam had said sometimes it felt as if he was living a lie. I had thought he was talking about being an ex-hunter but maybe there was more to it than that.

"Did Abdiel find out what's going on with God and Death?" I asked. Cas began to walk through the maze of totaled cars and I followed close behind him.

"We have been a little preoccupied if you have not noticed," Cas practically growled.

Okay, I could let that go because he was fighting a war with his siblings and anyone would be short-tempered if they had to go through that.

I wanted to continue this conversation but the angel would not speak of it. We stomped up the front porch and Cas rapped his knuckles against the wooden door.

Bobby flung the door open and stared at Cas and I for a moment.

"Hey, old man," I said.

"Who are you calling an old man?" Bobby asked and smiled.

"Bobby," Cas said and Bobby looked unexpectedly at the angel.

"Well Castiel, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," the old hunter said and made way so we could enter his humble abode.

"Why are you two here? Where's Sam?" Bobby asked. I noticed he had a pair of reading glasses in one hand.

"Sam is still in Montana- he's fine, he's with Abdiel. We need the Horsemen's rings," I said.

Things had been slightly tense between me and the old hunter because I refused to tell Sam what I had done to save him. Bobby had told me I shouldn't keep such a thing secret from my brother but I was adamant that Sam didn't need to know.

"What for?" Bobby asked, looking from Cas to me and back again.

"We need to free Michael in order to win the war against Raphael and Belial," Cas said without hesitation.

"Uh huh, and you're okay with this?" Bobby asked me.

I shrugged, "Lucifer's dead so Michael can't have his death-match. I figure it's the least I can do after all the time Cas had to put up with me."

"Well, I guess that settles it," Bobby said and perched the glasses on his nose and led the way outside.

In Bobby's tool shed we grabbed flashlights and shovels. We knew where the rings were, buried at four different points in Bobby's yard.

We went to the spot that was closest and Bobby and I took turns digging. The hole wasn't really that big but it was deep. Castiel stood and watched as we unearthed the box containing War's ring. Bobby had made four boxes, demon and angel proof, to keep the Horsemen's rings in. I took the box and brushed it off. I wasn't going to open it now, best to wait until we got back to Montana, better safe than sorry.

Next we retrieved Famine's ring, than Pestilence's and finally Death's. I handed the four metal boxes to Cas and sighed.

"There you have it," I said to the angel, "uh, can I have those back when you're done with them?"

The angel nodded, "I will return the rings to you for safekeeping. Even with Lucifer dead they would still be immensely dangerous if they fell into the hands of a demon."

"Sorry to cut the visit short but we have to let an archangel out on bail," I told Bobby and the old hunter nodded.

Cas grabbed my sleeve and vertigo greeted me.

We landed in the prairie in Montana. The same field we had just left. Sam and Abdiel were standing near the truck. I suddenly wondered if Abdiel would tell Sam that I had talked to Death and convinced the Horseman to spare my brother.

"You got 'em?" Abdiel asked and stepped forward.

The boxes were locked with a combination so I set them down on the hood of the pickup and opened each and scooped out the rings. I tipped the rings into the angel's waiting palm; they chimed like bells as the fell.

l"You two might not want to stand so close," Abdiel advised, "up on that ridge will be alright."

Sam and I got into the pickup (pausing to take the tin boxes from Bobby's with me) and my brother drove up to the top of a low hill about fifteen yards away.

We sat in the cab and watched the two angels prepare to raise Michael.

"What did Abdiel say?" I asked. I wanted to know if the angel had told Sam but I didn't want it to be obvious I was prying.

"He asked about Sarah," Sam said, watching the scene below.

"That's it?" I asked.

Sam shrugged, "he said he was happy for me. I don't know, we were waiting for you and Cas to come back."

"Okay," I said. Why was Sam on the defensive all of a sudden? Had Abdiel said something?

We watched as Abdiel put the rings together and tossed them in the grass. We couldn't hear him but I knew he'd speak the Enochian incantation to open the Cage.

Sam and I ducked, shielding our faces and covering our ears as a bright white light cut through the dark night and that high-frequency static sound began.

The ground beneath the truck shook as though there was an earthquake and I was afraid the windows would shatter.

Just as suddenly as the cacophony and tremors and searing light started, they stopped and all was quiet.

I looked up and blinked. I could see the stars and the full moon and, peering down, I could make out the spot where the two angels had raised their brother. What I didn't see though, were the angels.

I got out of the truck and looked around. Sam slid from the driver's seat and looked at me with his unique confused expression.

"Did it work?" Sam asked.

I shook my head, "I don't know."

Sam came around to my side of the pickup and looked even more confused than ever.

"Maybe they just went back to Heaven," he said.

"Sam Winchester," a familiar voice said from behind us.

Both Sam and I turned around and saw Michael standing only feet away from us.

"It worked," I said without enthusiasm.

Where were Cas and Abdiel? Had the archangel killed them when he was released?

"You are just full of surprises, aren't you Sam?" Michael said and stepped closer.

Neither Sam nor I could move; we were trapped between the angel and the truck.

"I'm just lucky I guess," Sam said without meeting the archangel's gaze.

Michael chuckled, "it has nothing to do with luck."

Sam looked to one side, understandably uncomfortable in the archangel's presence.

Now I was feeling uneasy; what did Michael know that we did not?

Michael turned his blue-eyed gaze on me and smiled condescendingly.

"I know many things you cannot ever hope to fathom, Dean," he said as though he had read my mind.

"I know what Lucifer did to you in Hell, Sam. I was there, I saw everything. I saw how he drove you to the edge of sanity and with one final nudge; he would have pushed you off the brink…" Michael said, his grin widening.

"You should have been there, Dean. With the skills you learned from Alistair it would have been very entertaining to watch," Michael looked at me and his grin faded.

"Michael!" Abdiel's British voice barked.

The archangel turned to see Abdiel standing behind him, an angry expression on his face.

"Abdiel, how long has it been?" Michael said with mock joy in his voice at seeing his brother.

"Many centuries," Abdiel took a cigarette out of his coat pocket and lit it, waved the match out and took a drag.

"I thought for sure you would have 'gone native'," Michael said to the angel.

"As much as I prefer the company of humans to that of my own family, I would not go so far as to lose my Grace," Abdiel said in a distracted voice.

Michael took on a superior expression, apparently he still considered Abdiel foolish for staying on Earth.

"You've heard about what's going on at home, then?" Abdiel asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Raphael has overstepped his bounds, his arrogance will be his undoing," Michael said angrily.

"Good, let's get this over with then," Abdiel flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the toe of his spat shoe.

Without further ado, the two angels disappeared.

Sam and I each took a deep breath. My brother closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them again and looked at me.

A warm breeze alerted us to the fact that Cas had just appeared.

The angel held out his hand and gave me back the Horsemen's rings.

Before Sam or I could ask Cas anything, the angel disappeared and we were left alone.

Without saying a word to each other, Sam and I got into the truck and slowly drove back to the farm. As we drove, I placed each Horsemen's ring back into its respective box and locked it.

When we arrived back at Sam's, Sarah and Lisa were surprised to see us back so late. We had been gone for two hours.

"We went into town for a little bit," Sam said without conviction.

Sarah asked Sam to put the horses in for the night and my brother nodded. I followed him out to the pasture where he whistled for the animals. The horses came running, they knew the routine.

I watched as Sam opened the gate and one by one the horses walked right to the barn and to their stalls. Turning on the overhead lights, Sam proceeded to brush each horse slowly. I offered to help but he just shook his head.

"Take the knife, Dean," Sam said quietly.

I sighed, "okay, okay."

I was too exhausted to argue with him. Digging up the rings hadn't tired me out; it was more of an emotional exhaustion rather than a physical one. I guessed that Sam probably felt the same.

After a half an hour, Sam finished and I picked up the box that held Ruby's demon killing knife.

We went inside and slipped off our shoes. Although it was only eleven, I could barely keep my eyes open. After some negotiation, Sarah and Lisa agreed to call it a night. The boys were already asleep in the upstairs guest bedroom anyway.

Since my first visit to Montana, Sarah and Sam had finished the basement up and put in an extra bedroom for guests.

The basement was cooler than the rest of the house and when Lisa and I finally lay down on the bed, I found I was slightly cold.

I don't know how long I laid there, long after Lisa had fallen asleep because I could hear her slow, even breathing.

Finally I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep…

I was standing in what had to be an old-fashioned operating room in a hospital. Everything was white: the floor, the walls, the ceiling, even the fluorescent lighting. Along the upper level of the room were plate glass windows for observations. I could have been at Johns Hopkins. I was wearing a doctor's clothes, ready for surgery. I had white scrubs on, white shoes, a white mask over my mouth and latex gloves. I looked up at the observation window and saw only unfamiliar faces, doctors waiting eagerly to watch.

I looked down at the hospital table and my stomach dropped when I saw Sam lying there. My heart pounded in my chest: Sam wasn't anesthetized; he was fully conscious, staring up at me with green eyes filled with fear.

I froze, I couldn't move. What was I supposed to do? I looked around for the exit but saw only white tile walls.

"Doctor, are you ready?" a female voice made me look up and I was staring across the table at Meg.

The demon's eyes were jet but she had on a nurse's outfit, ready to assist in whatever it was I was going to do.

My mouth went dry as my hand moved of its own volition toward a tray of wicked looking instruments that had no right to be in a hospital. I picked up a knife-like weapon with a long, thin blade.

"Dean, please don't do this," Sam whimpered, his eyes were as large as saucers.

I looked down at my brother, saw his terrified expression and felt angry at him.

"Don't worry Sam, I'm going to help you," I said in a soothing voice.

"Think about what you're doing," Sam spoke quickly, his gaze never left the instrument in my hand.

"It's going to be okay, Sam. I'm going to fix you," I said. I was talking but I had no control of the words coming out of my mouth, it was like I was possessed.

"Dean! Please!" Sam strained to sit up, to get away but it was though some invisible force was holding him down.

I ducked my hand down and cut. Blood splattered. Sam's cries fell on deaf ears. Meg whispered encouragement to me, her dark eyes filled with malignant glee.

I couldn't or wouldn't stop. I was lost in what I was doing. I only paused to grab a different tool.

I looked up and wasn't surprised at all to see that now in Meg's place stood Ruby, looking exactly as she had in that old convent, when Sam released Lucifer.

Ruby turned her gaze to Sam with no pity in her expression. Sam should have been long dead by now, but he wasn't I didn't know what was keeping him alive and conscious. The only sound in the room was my brother's ragged gasps and cries of pain, my measured breaths and the steady dripping of blood.

All I could think was that I needed to fix Sam, something was telling me I needed to cure him and this was the only way, no matter how cruel it appeared, that Sam would thank me in the end.

In short time crimson blood had spattered the walls, pooled on the floor and streaked my hospital clothes.

The coppery smell of blood and the sour stench of fear filled the air so thick I could taste it and I gagged.

I chanced a glance up and jumped when I saw who had taken Ruby's place: Alistair.

I gazed at the demon in shock and stepped back.

Alistair glanced down at Sam, "nice work Dean, couldn't have done better myself."

No, Alistair had nothing to do with this! I was helping Sam, not harming him.

From nowhere the demon produced an evil looking blade, "now it's my turn."

I watched in horror as the demon bent over Sam and my brother's cries renewed, begging me to help him…

I woke with a start and sat up in bed. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel sweat running down my back.

I drew my knees to my chest and placed my head in my hands until I had calmed.

It was just a nightmare, I told myself, and you've had nightmares before.

Sure I've had nightmares before, but not like that, certainly not like that for a long time.

I let out a small groan as I recalled the dream.

"Go back to sleep, Dean," Lisa muttered in her sleep beside me.

I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep that night. I stood and padded up the stairs and into the living room. I could just make out the bookshelf and grabbed at one of the volumes, moved to the recliner and clicked on the lamp.

I had picked The Catcher In The Rye and I sat for a few minutes with the book on my lap.

Now, I am not one to analyze my dreams and see hidden meanings in what they show me but I thought that the message of that nightmare could come back to my desire to help Sam but not really knowing how. Also, my subconscious had probably been mulling over what Michael had said and had dredged up my fear of becoming a monster, a demon. Mentioning Alistair had been below-the-belt and it had brought back some better-off-suppressed memories of my stay in Hell.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and nestled into the chair and opened the book, I would be there for a while. Copper appeared from the kitchen where he had been sleeping and walked over to me. The golden retriever placed his yellow head on my knee and looked up at me with his liquid-brown eyes.

"Make yourself comfortable, pal," I whispered to the dog.

Copper seemed to understand me and lay down beside the chair with a sigh.

SPN

It had been good to see Abdiel again. It had been such a long time and I wasn't sure if I'd ever get the chance to speak with his again. Under better circumstances it would have been a more pleasant conversation. The angel was distracted and obviously worried about the battle but he made an effort to ask me about Sarah and how I was doing, etc.

I didn't know why Dean wanted to know what Abdiel had asked me, what did it matter? My brother had looked unconvinced when I told him the truth and that made me suspicious of him. What did he think the angel had told me?

I lay awake in bed for a long while. I just listened to Sarah's slow, peaceful breathing and tried to will myself to fall asleep.

I was very uncomfortable knowing that Michael had witnessed my torture in Hell. Of course I knew the archangel was there, I just didn't think he'd be watching Lucifer. Michael also would know about everything, everything I refrained from telling Dean and Sarah, every memory so terrible I kept locked away even from myself, stored away where they wouldn't surface.

The night grew late and I grew tired. I could feel my eyelids grow heavy and my breathing slowed until I was in that odd threshold between sleep and waking…

I was in a forest. There was snow on the ground, some banks coming up to my knees. I saw stark, black trees. The snow was painted silver by the full moon hanging bloated and yellow in the night sky. I did not feel cold. I could have been in Alaska or Canada or Germany.

I took a step forward and heard a distant howl and then another and another in answer. The air was filled with the eerie sound that sent a shiver up my spine and raised goose bumps on my arms. They were not wolves. I knew exactly what they were and they were coming closer.

I was defenseless. I had no weapons. All I could do was run. I trudged through snow that seemed as thick as glue.

Very quickly I was out of breath but I didn't pause. Tree branches as sharp as knives snagged at my clothes and scratched my face but I didn't dare stop. I could hear them coming closer.

Inch by inch I moved forward but they also moved forward and with greater speed than I could manage. I knew if they caught me I'd be dead, there was no question about it.

I saw the moonlight reflecting sharply on the slick surface of a frozen lake. I moved toward the body of water, I don't know why but something told me they would be reluctant to go onto the ice. Maybe.

My sneakers skidded across the slippery surface. I looked down and saw the ice was as polished as a mirror. I saw my reflection, my eyes were wide, I was pale and blood dripped from a dozen cuts on my face.

I heard, rather than saw them break through the trees and they came at the frozen lake, snapping and growling.

I slid further out, toward the center. The closest one stepped onto the ice. I could tell because the sheet crackled under its weight. I stepped backwards; I was ready to run if they decided the ice posed no obstacle.

I heard the ice squeal and crackle and barely had time to take a breath before I was plunged into freezing water.

The cold made my limbs seize painfully and I gulped down the chilling liquid that filled my lungs. I involuntarily gasped for air and only succeeded in choking down more water.

I forced my frozen limbs to move and keep from sinking. I could see the hole in the ice where I fell and a figure standing just over it.

My arms and legs refused to respond and my vision began to go dark when I felt a fever-warm hand grab my wrist.

The figure pulled me toward the surface and I saw it was Sarah. She was wearing a long black dress, her expression determined.

How could she do that? She somehow had the strength to pull me up to the surface and avoid being a chew-toy.

"Sarah!" I gasped. I was laying half-out and half-in the water. I somehow managed to find the strength to pull myself out of the chill water and crouched there on the ice, before my wife. I coughed up the cold water and panted for breath. Now I felt the cold. I shivered violently and my wet clothes and hair began to turn to ice.

Sarah looked at me with a loving expression and placed a warm palm on my cheek. I could hear them but they apparently didn't want to come near my wife.

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah," I said over and over again in a chant.

Sarah put a finger to my lips and I stopped.

"Sarah," I whispered as I shuddered with cold. Her name seemed to be all I could say.

The dark ice reflected in my wife's eyes. Her breath on my face was very warm and smelled sweet, almost like peppermint.

"Shhh," Sarah said, "things fall apart; the center cannot hold."

"What?" I managed to gasp between my chattering teeth.

Sarah's palm never left my cheek as she continued to speak, "Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."

My wife looked away from me, behind me at them. Standing on the edge of the ice, waiting patiently, they were in no hurry.

What was Sarah talking about?

"Please Sarah," I whispered, "let's go."

My wife looked at me with sorrowful eyes.

Sarah moved her palm from my face to take one of my hands in hers.

She stood and pulled me up with her. The ice that encased me seemed to vaporize and I walked with Sarah to the edge of the lake.

Sarah looked up at me and kissed my cheek and spoke one last time, "Why, if it was an illusion, not praise the catastrophe, whatever it was, that destroyed illusion and put truth in its place?"

I glanced behind and although I could not see them, I knew they were following us… but at a distance.

We walked slowly, ever so slowly. I wondered how Sarah did not feel the cold, clad in only a black evening gown and black high-heeled shoes. I was still very cold from falling into the lake.

The snow crunched beneath our feet like bones. Clouds scudded across the sky to obscure the moon. I could hear them as they walked across the ice, they growled and whined.

Sarah and I stopped on the edge of the forest. My wife looked at me with a terribly sad expression. I wanted to ask Sarah what was wrong but as soon as I opened my mouth she disappeared in a gust of warm wind reminiscent of an angel.

I was not frightened. I took a deep breath and turned to face them. I wasn't going to run away any longer… they lunged…

I opened my eyes and realized I had fallen asleep. I was lying on my back, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. I had no idea what my dream meant. A forest in winter, nighttime, Hell Hounds, Sarah…

I sighed and looked over at my wife. Sarah was lying on her side, facing me. I could see a small smile on her lips as she dreamed.

Without disturbing Sarah I stood up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. I closed the door and turned on the light.

Squinting at the brightness, I opened the medicine cabinet. I grabbed a small bottle of sleeping pills and took two of them. I closed the cabinet and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked no different than I had earlier that day. I don't know what I expected to see, if anything.

I shook my head and turned out the light, opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hall. I saw that there was a light on downstairs that had not been on before.

Must be Dean, I thought. I considered going down the steps but decided against it. I needed sleep and I was sure Dean was just getting himself a midnight snack. Yeah, he acted like my house was a second home and he'd often take the liberty of raiding the fridge in the middle of the night.

I went back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Sarah had pulled all the blankets to her side so that she was cocooned in them. She had a habit of doing that while she slept, especially if I got up during the night. I grabbed the quilt that was folded on the end of our bed and draped it over myself as I lay down.

My eyes were already beginning to feel heavy and I knew the pills were working. I allowed my eyelids to close on their own and concentrated on breathing in a slow, even pace. The room was pleasantly warm and I felt myself drifting, drifting as sleep overcame me in its welcoming embrace.


	15. Dying To Meet You

I woke at the sound of my alarm clock. It was exactly five in the morning. The sky outside was a dull grey colour, cloudy and cold-looking. I rolled over in bed, turned off the annoying beeping and sat up groggily. I didn't really like to take anything to help me sleep since I'd only wake up feeling tired the next day but it was better than not sleeping at all. Sarah was still in Dream Land: she was so used to my early wake-up call that she didn't even stir from her slumber.

I stood and stretched, trying to shake off the fuzzy feeling. I grabbed clean clothes from my drawer, slipped off the ones I slept in, and pulled on the neatly folded pair of jeans and the wrinkle-free, long-sleeved brown shirt. I put a pair of socks on quickly and walked into the hall and down the stairs.

I went directly to the kitchen, as I did every day, put coffee grounds into the maker and turned it on. I leaned against the counter as I waited for the coffee to brew.

Copper came over from the living room and peered up at me with soft, tawny eyes. I reached down and patted his golden head.

Once the coffee was done, I took a travel-mug from the cupboard and poured some of the steaming liquid into it.

Copper looked up at me and huffed before padding back into the living room. I followed the dog and peered into the room. I stifled a chuckle when I saw Dean sitting in the recliner, legs elevated, head back, a copy of Stephen King's The Eyes of the Dragon dangling from one limp hand and Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye lying open on his lap. Dean's mouth was open slightly and he was snoring lightly.

The golden retriever looked up at Dean and whined. Copper thought he was a lap-dog: a seventy-five pound lap-dog.

A sudden idea occurred to me and I moved to the other side of the recliner and beckoned the dog to jump.

"C'mon Copper," I whispered excitedly to get his attention.

The dog perked his ears, crouched low and leaped into Dean's lap.

The result was quite amusing: Dean was instantly awake as soon as the Copper put his full weight on my brother's legs, the dog stood with his butt in Dean's face (his tail wagging happily), both the books went flying across the room like frightened birds.

Dean swore loudly as he pushed the dog and Copper dropped to all four paws on the floor.

My brother stood and glared at me.

"How'd you like it if I got Marlowe to jump onto your lap?" Dean grumbled but I knew he wasn't really angry.

I managed to stop laughing and arrange my face into a serious expression.

"Sleep well?" I asked and moved to pick up the books that had fallen in the commotion.

Dean shrugged, "Lisa snores like an elephant so I came up here."

I just shook my head and went into the kitchen and poured some coffee into a mug for my brother.

Dean followed me and took the offered cup. He was wearing a pair of blue plaid sleep-pants and an old grey t-shirt. My brother looked at me from over the rim of his cup, his hazel eyes belied a strange expression I could not discern.

"You okay?" I asked seriously.

Dean's eyebrows scrunched together in a look of confusion, "of course, why wouldn't I be?"

I shrugged. I guessed it wasn't important. If it was, he'd tell me. Wouldn't he?

"I can't understand why you get up so early…I sleep in the latest I can," Dean said with a smile.

"Someone needs to let the horses out in the morning and I don't really mind getting up at this time," I said as we sat at the kitchen table.

Dean yawned widely and drank some more of his coffee.

"What do you think is going on Upstairs?" I asked quietly.

"Raphael is probably getting his ass kicked," Dean said and stood and walked to the fridge. He opened the door and looked around at the bottles of condiments, Tupperware containers of leftovers, and the carton of milk…

Dean found the spaghetti from last night and opened its container. I watched as he took a bowl from the cupboard, put a generous helping of the pasta in it and sat it in the microwave. He turned the microwave on and sat back down while the food reheated.

I raised an eyebrow at my brother's choice of breakfast but said nothing about it.

"Don't come by next month," I said.

"Why? We come every month, since you got out of the hospital," Dean said, a slightly confused expression on his face.

The scent of tomato sauce filled the small kitchen and the microwave beeped to signal it was finished.

"You don't need to come every month, you can call instead, and you don't need to keep going out of your way-" I began but Dean interrupted me.

He stood, grabbed a fork from the drawer, took the spaghetti from the microwave and set it on the table.

"You don't want me to come anymore?" Dean asked as he put a forkful of still-steaming pasta in his mouth.

"I didn't say that. But we can't keep doing this," I continued, "you can't keep dropping by all the time, forever."

Dean opened his mouth and waved a hand in front of his face. He hadn't waited for the food to cool and had burnt his mouth.

He looked at me with a slightly angry expression. I let my features remain placid.

"I'm coming next month whether you like it or not," Dean insisted.

I sighed, exasperated.

"No Dean, stay in Indiana," I said and watched him scarf down more pasta.

My brother shook his head.

"I am not a child Dean, I can take care of myself even if you don't think so," I grumbled. Why couldn't he just listen to me?

"You can't take care of yourself Sam," Dean said. He finished eating and paused to put the dirty dishes in the washer.

He poured himself some more coffee and looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"Ever since you were a kid you've needed me to take care of you," Dean said and grinned.

I rolled my eyes. Was Dean going to watch over me like some matron for the rest of my life?

"This is ridiculous," I said and stood, "I'm going to let the horses out. You stay here and hang out."

I didn't really want Dean to follow me out to the barn. He was being childish and I didn't want to talk to him.

I grabbed my travel mug of coffee and went into the front hall to slip on a pair of rubber boots and my coat.

Dean stayed inside as I opened the front door, walked out onto the porch to see the pasture and the surrounding fields blanketed in a thick fog. A chilly breeze was coming in from the north and I paused to zip up my coat before heading to the barn.

Frost had dusted the prairies in the night and the blades of grass were silvered on the edges as I walked across the yard.

I opened the wide barn doors and was greeted by the friendly whinnies of the horses. I sat my mug down on the ground and unlatched each stall door.

Duncan rushed out as though it was his first time going to the pasture and brushed past me without so much as a pause in his step. Ginger stepped out and followed her foal at a slower pace; she turned her brown eyes to me and snorted as if commenting on the young horse's enthusiasm. Marlowe clopped from his stall. He was getting old, his long muzzle was graying and he had mild arthritis in his hips (the local veterinarian, Dr. Lutz, checked all of the horses regularly). He stopped in front of me so I could pat his nose.

The old gelding closed his eyes with a looked of sheer pleasure as I stood and stroked his long snout for a good ten minutes before walking toward the pasture gate.

I followed the horses out and opened the gate and they filed through, shadowy figures and finally completely lost from sight in the fog.

SPN

I didn't follow Sam outside. I knew he didn't want to talk any longer so I stayed inside and finished my coffee.

I gulped down the dregs of the coffee and set the mug in the sink. Copper looked up at me and whined. I went to the front door and opened it for the dog. I just had time to glance at his yellow tail whipping furiously from side to side happily before he disappeared in the fog.

I know Sam didn't want me to come by every month but I wasn't going to stop. I felt responsible for him, still, after everything that had happened. My first priority was the well-being of my family and that included Sam. I really didn't understand why Sam had a problem with Lisa and the kids and I coming over once a month anyway. I liked seeing him every month, I liked to know how he was doing, how Sarah and the kids were doing. I didn't think I was being too pushy.

When Sam and Sarah had finished the basement they had put in a small bathroom for guests. It had a sink and a shower stall so there was no need to go upstairs to get ready for the day. I walked quietly downstairs, slipped into the guest bedroom where Lisa was still sleeping and grabbed clean clothes from my duffel bag. Lisa was lying on her side, her head pillowed by her arms, breathing slowly and lightly.

I went across the larger main room and stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. After showering and changing into a pair of jeans, socks, and a dark green long-sleeved shirt. I wiped the accumulated moisture off the mirror with a towel and yawned. I could feel a headache growing just over my eyes and I knew if I didn't take something now it would stay for the entire day. I opened the medicine cabinet and saw a red and white Tylenol bottle.

I shook two pills onto my palm and swallowed them dry. I went back upstairs, found the Stephen King book I was reading and headed into the kitchen to wait for Sam to come back inside.

I wanted some more coffee and since I finished the pot, put some grounds into the maker to let it brew.

I wasn't paying any attention to the time and didn't even notice that Sarah had apparently woken up and got ready for the day until she entered the kitchen. She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a grey zip-up sweater over a yellow t-shirt, her hair was pulled into a ponytail.

"Morning," Sarah said as she made her way to the coffeemaker and poured herself a mug.

"Hey," I said and sat the book down so it splayed on its spine.

"Is Sam still in the barn?" Sarah asked. It was kind of an unnecessary question though; Sam always took care of the horses as soon as he woke up, every day.

I nodded and paused.

"Did Sam say anything to you about him not wanting me to come over every month?" I asked. The conversation Sam and I had had yesterday and our argument this morning couldn't have just come out of nowhere.

Sarah looked a little confused, "no, he never said anything to me about that."

I nodded.

"As far as I know, Sam likes having you and Lisa and the boys come over," Sarah said.

I shrugged, "okay, well I just figured he'd talk to you about it."

Sarah shook her head to reinforce the earlier comment that she was in the dark about Sam's thoughts on me 'checking up on him' once a month.

"I don't know why Sam would tell you not to come, unless it's inconvenient for you," Sarah suggested.

"Yeah," I said but doubted that was the real reason Sam didn't want me around.

Personally I didn't know what had gotten into Sam lately but whatever it was, I didn't like it.

"I can talk to him if you'd like," Sarah said as she took a sip of coffee.

"Nah, that's okay," I said. I could deal with Sam myself.

Sam had been acting weird since yesterday and I wanted to know why. Why, after two years of peace and quiet and normalcy had Sam started behaving like he was paranoid, what with his nightmare about his family being murdered, his insistence I take Ruby's knife back to Indiana and saying he didn't want me to continue visiting as I had done since he had been released from the hospital.

Sometimes I thought I knew my brother and then he'd turn around and surprise me, remind me that I didn't in fact really know him, or at least that I didn't know who he was since his return from Hell.

At least we don't have to deal with any monsters, I thought and stood up and took my leave of Sarah to go outside on the pretext of looking for Copper so he didn't get himself into trouble.

I stepped into the chilly mist and wished I had grabbed my coat before coming outside. All I could see, aside from the few feet of grassy lawn beyond the porch was a grey wall of fog.

I couldn't help but think of how perfectly creepy all this fog was, like something out of a Stephen King novel, or an Edgar Allan Poe story for that matter.

I walked slowly; there was no need to hurry and accidently run into something. I hoped it would clear up by the time we had to fly back to Cicero. As I headed in the direction of the barn I tried to think of what I would say to Sam, I didn't want to get into another argument but I really wanted to find out what was going on.

Something had to be going on; Sam wouldn't just start acting out of sorts all of a sudden for no reason.

The hulking shape of the barn appeared before me and I found the two large doors, opened wide. When I stepped into the barn it was as though the fog was a solid wall, it didn't seep into the building at all, but remained on the threshold as though something was keeping it from entering.

I looked around, it was dim in the barn, no lights were on and the surrounding mist prevented even diffuse sunlight from shining through.

I walked further into the barn but I couldn't hear any sound except my own breathing.

"Sam?" I called and my voice was dulled so it didn't carry far.

I received no reply.

He didn't hear me; I thought and peered into the empty stalls. I walked down the middle and looked into every stall I passed. The three occupied by the horses were recently cleaned and I saw fresh water, straw and oats in them. Sam couldn't have gotten far.

I took a deep breath to remain calm. There was no reason for me to start panicking.

"Hey Sam!" I called louder. I walked to the end of the barn but there was still no sign of my brother.

I stared up into the open door of the loft, thinking that maybe Sam was up there. I had just placed my hand on one of the ladder rungs when I heard the sound of footsteps near the front of the barn and I turned to see Sam duck inside.

"Hey!" I called and Sam looked up.

"Hi," Sam said and looked a little peeved that I was there when he told me to stay inside.

Sam stopped and stared at me, waiting for me to speak.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I said and Sam paused as though considering my request.

"Sure," Sam said and moved to sit down on an overturned milk carton. I walked over and crouched down.

"What's up with you?" I began. I didn't really know what else to say.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"You're acting kind of paranoid for one thing," I said and Sam interrupted me.

"Paranoid? How am I acting paranoid?" my brother demanded to know.

"Well, you don't want to keep Ruby's knife here anymore," I said.

"I don't think it's safe to have around my family," Sam insisted.

"Yeah, but how are Faith or Aaron or Sarah going to get into a padlocked box that only you have the combination for?" I asked rhetorically.

"I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about what's out there getting the knife," Sam said.

I sighed. The box was angel and demon-proof and no one else knew Sam had it except for Bobby and me.

"Okay, okay," I raised my hands; I didn't want to start a fight.

"Can we just have a calm conversation without jumping to conclusions?" I asked and Sam nodded.

"Are you feeling alright, Sam?" I ventured that hated question: 'are you okay?'

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"Did you have that nightmare again?" I asked. Maybe that was what was bothering him? Hell, I'd be uneasy if I had a dream about killing Lisa and the boys.

"No," Sam said quickly, too quickly for my liking.

I nodded but Sam must have seen the skeptical expression on my face.

"It wasn't that nightmare…it was a different one," Sam said reluctantly.

"Okay and what was this one about?" I asked.

Sam shrugged, "It…I don't really know how to explain it…"

"I mean, it wasn't as bad as the other one but it was creepy," Sam said and that seemed all he was going to say about it.

"Creepy?" I said slowly.

Sam nodded.

Fine, I'd live with that.

"Is there any way I can convince you to keep the knife?" I changed the subject.

"No Dean," Sam said and shook his head for emphasis.

Okay, fine. Be like that. See if I care.

"I think you're making a big mistake Sam," I continued.

Sam looked at me right in the face, "I don't want to keep it."

He spoke each word slowly as though it would help get the point across.

My brother stood and stretched. I saw that the conversation was over and stood as well.

"How about this fog? Pretty weird, eh?" I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, I've never seen it this bad before," Sam answered.

I looked to the entrance and felt a tingle run up my spine; the fog remained outside still, as though held in place by some invisible wall. Regular fog would be crawling across the floor to fill up all the space in the barn, but something told me this wasn't any regular fog.

"Hey, have you had any recent electrical storms or anything like that?" I asked out of what must have been a morbid curiosity.

"We're in Montana, electrical storms are as common as farms," Sam said but I could see by the look on his face that he knew what I was talking about: Demon omens.

Suddenly I didn't want to be outside any longer, I wanted in the house with Sarah and Lisa and the kids. Sam seemed to feel the same way; he looked at me and gave his head a slight nod, like we needed to use covert signals to communicate. I still wasn't sure what was going on with Sam, I didn't know why he was suddenly having nightmares about murdering his wife and children and I wasn't sure why he was acting paranoid but if he wasn't going to tell me I'd just have to live with it. I wasn't going to force him to tell, I had my secrets and he could have his if that's what he wanted. At the moment, anyway I was more concerned with getting inside the house and out of this mist.

But first I had to find that dog.

Without moving, I put two fingers to my mouth and let out a piercing whistle I used when I couldn't see Copper or he was too far away for me to be yelling at him.

The sound seemed dull and dead, as though the fog had muffled it.

"You let the dog out?" Sam asked skeptically.

Now I realized I should just have let the dog crap on the carpet inside. I hadn't known how bad this fog was until I had stepped outside, myself.

I walked to the edge of the barn door and shouted out into the roiling mist.

"C'mon Copper! I have a nice juicy steak here for you!"

I didn't hear anything in response so I tried again.

"If you don't come here now we'll get another dog- a big ugly poodle!"

Sam looked at me with one eyebrow raised. Of course I knew that wouldn't get the retriever to come hurrying over.

"He couldn't have gone very far, not in this" Sam said.

I nodded but knew that if I lost the dog, Ben and Lisa would kill me.

I really wanted to get inside the ranch house but I didn't want to go out into the fog to do so.

Slowly, like some actor in a B-Grade horror movie, Sam extended his left arm and stuck it out of the doorway and into the fog.

Of course nothing happened. It was just fog, really fucking creepy fog but fog all the same.

Sam turned to look at me and gave an embarrassed laugh. I shrugged and stepped confidently into the yard.

The fog was chilly and was so thick it made a seemingly impenetrable wall around me. I felt, more then saw Sam walk up beside me in the swirling mist.

"This is crazy, I can't even see the house," Sam muttered and I nodded before I remembered that he couldn't see me.

"Yeah," I answered, "I've never seen fog this thick before."

"Neither have I," came Sam's muffled answer.

We stood close together, nearly touching and walked a few feet forward. The fog was extremely disorientating. I had no idea what direction I was going in, if I was even headed toward the house or not.

I jumped as something furry brushed my pant leg. I heard Copper's unmistakable whine and relaxed. I reached down and rubbed the retriever's head. He leaned against my leg and growled softly deep in his throat.

We walked with cautious slowness in a straight line, hoping we were headed to the house.

Sam and I practically shuffled our feet and held our hands out to prevent us from hitting something, the fog was so bad.

After moving over what seemed like yards of nothing but dew-covered lawn I breathed a sigh of relief when the toes of my boots hit the wooden porch steps.

Copper ran up onto the porch and scratched at the front door to be let in. I walked with confidence, feeling stupid for being scared of some fog.

I opened the door and slipped inside. Copper squeezed in past me and ran for the kitchen. Sam closed the door behind himself and looked much relieved to be in the house.

My brother glanced at me for a minute with a mixture of anxiety and embarrassment on his face. I couldn't help but laugh and seconds later both Sam and I were chuckling as though we had just heard a joke.

"Are the horses going to be okay out there?" I asked Sam as we slipped off our shoes.

"They'll probably hug the fence until the fog clears but they'll be fine," Sam said as he removed his rubber boots and straightened.

We walked into the kitchen where everyone else was. Sarah and Lisa had cups of coffee in front of them. Lisa was wearing a red v-neck t-shirt and black jeans. Her hair was loose on her shoulders. S.J., Faith and Ben were sitting at the table. Aaron was sitting up in his high chair. Ben was drinking orange juice and carefully watching his cousins and brother.

Sam walked over to Sarah and kissed her.

"You boys want waffles?" Sarah asked like Sam and I were a couple of kids.

"Sure," Sam answered as I went and slipped an arm around Lisa's waist and kissed her good morning.

"I'm just gonna take a shower," Sam said as he left the kitchen. He no doubt smelt like he'd been sleeping in the barn.

After breakfast was eaten and we were all packed we only had to wait for the fog to lift. By mid-morning the sun had come out with a vengeance and had burned off most of the mist.

Sarah, Sam, Lisa and I were sitting on the front porch watching the fog slowly evaporate.

"It's really too bad you can never stay longer than a weekend unless it's a holiday," Sarah mused. Unless it was Christmas or Thanksgiving or a couple of weeks off in July or August we only ever came for two days and sometimes that didn't seem like enough time, especially when I was used to being with Sam almost constantly. I know two years had passed since my brother and I had retired from hunting but I missed his constant companionship. I didn't think I'd ever get used to not having my brother close by all the time.

I quickly took a gulp of coffee so I wouldn't have to answer, I didn't feel like talking about Sam not wanting us to come over next month.

Lisa looked apologetically at Sarah. They had really become good friends since Sam's life-threatening coma and they almost looked like sisters sitting there with the both of them having dark, wavy hair and similar eye colours.

"You know we'd come over all the time but both of our work is very rigid and busy," Lisa said. She wasn't trying to put Sarah down because she pretty much made her own hours, just having to drive a couple of miles into town to sell antiques- Lisa would probably kill to have such a cushy job. But Lisa worked at an office and her boss wasn't the friendliest of people. He was very strict about rules and although he didn't limit his employees' days off, he'd get pissed if they booked a lot of time away.

My company was pretty relaxed when it came to schedules, mostly because I was my own boss and I didn't really care how much time my guys booked off as long as we had enough people to complete whatever project we were working on in time. Of course I couldn't just put my feet up and sip martinis while I watched everyone else work; I had a lot on my plate. I had to deal with architects and the logistics of whatever it was we were building, hell, sometimes I'd even had to put a hardhat on and go check up on what was going on, especially if someone came to me with a problem.

Most of the time I could leave my guys alone but sometimes it felt like I was babysitting a bunch of five-year-olds.

"Well, this is just a thought, but why don't you think about moving closer to us?" Sarah ventured.

It was a decent idea but I know Lisa would not want to leave Cicero, she was very attached to that city- she had grown up there, all her friends and family lived there or nearby, Ben had gone to elementary and he would be going to high school there. No, though the idea itself may have been tempting I knew Lisa would decline.

I watched as Lisa's gaze dropped to the coffee in her mug and she explained that she didn't think Ben would be ready to leave. Nice move; it's not me; it's my kid that doesn't want to go somewhere else.

"Why don't you and Sam move to Indiana?" Lisa asked without looking up.

I looked at Sam. He hadn't said a word at all as we sat here. I thought he looked a little on-edge but I may have been mistaken.

Sarah shook her head, "what would we do with the horses?"

If I wasn't mistaken, that really meant 'I don't think a city is good for Sam.'

Okay, Sam worked at the library in Butte but that didn't seem to count as far as Sarah was concerned. Butte wasn't really a big town anyway, full of farmers and country folk, not city-dwellers like Cicero or Indianapolis. Besides, at least Sam could always come to the ranch where it was quiet and the only sounds were the birds and insects and occasional coyotes at night, not the blaring of car horns or over-loud neighbours or ambulance or police or fire truck sirens. Sometimes I wished we lived in the country whenever I got fed up with all those annoying sounds of the urban and yearned for the quiet of the rural.

Sarah appeared to believe that the country was a good thing for Sam, it was relaxing and peaceful whereas a city would put stress on him which would not be healthy. I guess Sarah knew a thing or two about being stressed out because of where she lived, once being a resident of Albany and a frequent visitor of New York City.

I thought Sam was doing great. Until this weekend he hadn't seemed at all stressed whenever I had seen him previously. To all appearances he seemed perfectly normal and adjusted. I didn't see any reason why Sarah and Sam and the kids couldn't move closer to us, maybe even live in Indianapolis if they wanted to so at least there would be some distance between us.

"Couldn't you sell them to someone?" Lisa asked.

Sarah shook her head, "we've grown kind of attached to them, and I wouldn't want to see them sent away with strangers… I know it sounds silly but the horses are as much a part of our family as Faith and Aaron are."

Lisa nodded. She acted like Copper was our big, furry son.

"Well, just think about it, alright?" Lisa said and Sarah smiled.

I didn't think the thought of moving to Indiana would cross Sarah's mind again.

At half past eleven we were all gathered outside as Lisa, the boys and I prepared to head to the airport. The luggage was in the truck in the rental car; I had checked and double-checked that the boxes with the Horsemens' rings and Ruby's knife were safely stashed away in my duffle bag.

Before leaving, I had asked Sam one last time if he wouldn't reconsider and take the knife back. He had refused, as I knew he would, saying that he was no longer a hunter and he didn't want Ruby's knife to remind him of that part of his life.

I had nodded, knowing I was defeated. I assured Sam though, that he could always take the knife back if he needed it.

Now we were squished into the tiny car, ready for the long drive to Helena and the even longer drive home from the airport in Indianapolis. Copper was sitting in the middle seat between Ben and S.J., tongue lolling from his mouth and that smile only retrievers have plastered on his yellow muzzle.

Sam, Sarah, with Aaron in her arms and Faith stood to one side. They waved amiably as I put the car in reverse and slowly drove down the gravel driveway.

We had barely reached the main road before Lisa turned on the radio and jacked the volume up when a Boy George song came on.

I couldn't help but groan in disgust as the beginning of 'Karma Chameleon' started up with Lisa singing along happily, with S.J. joining in to my disappointment.

"Oh come on, not this crap," I muttered.

"S.J. likes it," Lisa protested, keeping an eye on the stereo to keep me from changing the song to something better.

I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw Ben had got his PSP back and was shutting out all outside distractions.

I sighed. It was going to be a dull, annoying drive to Helena.

I stared ahead, counting the telephone poles we passed but I lost count at a hundred and two. We didn't pass very many cars and those we did were either trucks or old-fashioned sedans that the farmers probably had been driving since they were tall enough to see over the steering wheel.

As I drove I couldn't help but think of Sam. I don't know why. I was worried about him. He had seemed to be doing so well up until this weekend.

I really wanted to believe that Sam was fine but after his behavior the past couple of days and what Cas had said about Sam being alive affecting everyone my brother came into contact with caused a small part of me to doubt.

"Dean? Did you hear what I said?" Lisa asked in a raised voice, bringing me back from my thoughts.

"What? Sorry," I apologized.

"I asked you what you think about S.J. going to Kindergarten in the fall."

"Oh, uh… so soon? He just turned three," I answered.

"He's ahead of the other kids in his daycare, Miss Hornsby said so just last week," Lisa continued.

I glanced back at S.J.; he was sleeping now, his head leaning against Copper's side. He looked so small sitting beside the retriever and I wasn't sure if he'd be ready for actual school in just three months time.

"Isn't he a little young?" I looked quickly at Lisa and then at the road in front of me.

"Jennifer Taylor's sending Alyssa to school in September," Lisa insisted.

"Yeah, well, Jennifer can't wait for Alyssa to leave the house so she can party with all her boyfriends," I muttered. Jennifer and Lisa had met at the daycare and they had become friends, I don't know why, Jennifer was a slut. I mean, she was young, in her early twenties, already divorced, four times I think, and seemed to have a new guy in her life every time we saw her. I know this sounds hypocritical coming from me, but I had matured a lot since my bachelor days and I really didn't think she was setting a very good example for her daughter.

Lisa looked at me indignantly, "you can be so mean sometimes."

Yeah, I could be mean. I could be selfish and arrogant but of course, you already know that.

I didn't respond. What would be the point? We'd only end up arguing and I wasn't in the mood for that right now.

You think hunting down monsters is hard work? Try being married. Sometimes it felt like both Lisa and I were tiptoeing around each other, afraid of saying something to offend.

I worried about saying something against domestic life, complaining about something as tedious as taxes or comparing the life of a hunter to the life of a husband and father even in passing would make Lisa's face go bright red and she'd demand if I thought I was too good for her, if I didn't just leave if the life I'd lived before was so glamorous. Of course I would never leave Lisa, I loved her and I couldn't bear to part with S.J. or Ben. I was no longer a hunter and they were the most important things in my life now.

Lisa on the other hand, was cautious about insulting Sam. She was very careful when she spoke of him, if she did so at all. Sometimes she'd let her opinion of my brother slip and if she noticed Lisa would immediately apologize and look at me as though afraid I'd throw a fit of rage. Of course I would never hurt Lisa, physically or otherwise but sometimes we'd end up having shouting matches if we were not prudent when speaking of certain topics.

Sometimes when Lisa spoke of my brother I though she still believed he should be somewhere where he'd be able to get help, even though he seemed fine with Sarah and his children. Being with Sarah seemed to help Sam stay calm and collected, she seemed to help him forget his time in Hell and I thought that was more than any psychiatrist or doctor could do for my brother. I had a horrible feeling that if Sam ever ended up in some hospital the doctors wouldn't know exactly what to think of Sam's experiences and end up medicating him or something.

It felt good to be back home. I just hated the plane ride from Montana to Indiana but I always breathed a sigh of relief when we touched down on the airstrip in Indianapolis.

It was comforting to walk through the airport and get back into our familiar car. We used Lisa's Toyota Echo when we drove to the capital because it had a lot more room than the truck.

It was warm this afternoon and we drove with the windows open. Copper was leaning over Ben, sticking his head out the window while the boy kept trying to push him back into the middle seat.

Lisa offered to drive on this last leg of our monthly journey but as always, I refused. I liked driving like this, even with my wife and kids with me it kind of reminded me of driving for hours on end when I had been a hunter. It was sort of a secret joy of mine, being nostalgic for the freedom of the open road before me and the idea of having nothing to do in the time being but concentrate on the blacktop ahead of me.

Once we arrived in Cicero I made a direct line for the nearest pizza place. It had become a tradition to have pizza on the day we returned from Montana, it was easier then Lisa having to whip something up, especially if we arrived home later than expected.

We ate right away without unpacking our things first. We were all starving, having only eaten waffles for breakfast although Lisa had a baggie of crackers with her for S.J. since he couldn't last an entire day without eating anything but breakfast.

After cleaning up the empty pizza boxes and putting the leftovers in the refrigerator, I grabbed my duffel bag and went out to the garage.

I turned on the light and smiled when I saw the tarp-covered shape of the Impala. I slipped the dark blue plastic sheet over the car's roof and unlocked the trunk. There was nothing inside that would show that I'd once been a hunter. Only a jug of anti-freeze, an emergency blanket, a first-aid kit and a road atlas of the United States sat in the spacious trunk.

When I opened the secret compartment on the other hand there were enough weapons to make a serial killer's wet dream. There was a myriad of guns, a collection of knives, containers of holy water, rock salt and a number of other weapons ideal for killing almost any evil son of a bitch you could think of. I unzipped my duffel bag and pulled out the boxes containing the rings from the Four Horsemen. I slid them in between a shotgun and a red container of gasoline. When I saw Bobby next I'd give the rings back to him so he'd keep them safer then I could. Next I took out Ruby's knife and set it amongst the rest of the knives.

I replaced the top of the compartment, closed the lid of the trunk and patted the cool, black metal of the Impala's back end. It seemed unfair, after everything the old girl had been through, after every time she'd helped Sam and I, she should end up covered up and out of sight in my garage in suburban Indiana.

I knew it was just a car, a construction of metal and rubber and plastic and leather but I couldn't help but feel as if she shouldn't be retired, at least not yet.

I slid the tarp over the car again and went back inside.

The next three weeks of June passed by uneventfully, Lisa and I were busy with work and Ben's classes were winding down for summer vacation. S.J. had been to the elementary school and the Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Pimentel, had said that he would definitely be ready for Junior Kindergarten in September. Ben was looking forward to the two months off school, he couldn't wait to hang out with Matty and his other friends, but he also knew he had to look after S.J.

"Can't he just go to daycare like he always does?" Ben had asked one night during dinner when Lisa had given him the news that his brother would be staying at home while he was on summer vacation.

"I don't see why we'd have to pay for daycare when S.J. can stay home with you," Lisa had answered.

S.J. grinned across the table at Ben, he was very happy to hear he'd be spending time with his big brother.

"But Mom," Ben whined, "I won't be able to do anything fun."

"Don't be silly Ben, of course you'll have fun, you just need to watch your brother as well," Lisa answered.

Ben sulked but didn't answer or complain any longer. He knew when his mother made a decision she stuck by it and nothing could sway her. Besides, I didn't think it was necessary to be shelling out money for the next two months when we didn't have to.

Ben would get over it soon enough. As much as he liked to act tough and indifferent of S.J. in front of his buddies, Lisa and I knew Ben cared for him and wouldn't let his little brother out of his sight.

Now I was looking forward to spending the night by myself, Lisa was taking the boys to her Mom and Dad's house. I wasn't going, Lisa's parents and I had a mutual dislike of each other- they didn't think I was good enough for their daughter. And they made that very clear. Clear enough to make the few times I did accompany Lisa and the boys, usually on Christmas and Easter and Thanksgiving, very uncomfortable. Lisa's mother, Jane Braeden, was always commenting on how well Cheryl was doing, being married to an accountant and Willard Braeden seemed to distain me for working a trade job. It wasn't like the Braedens had had stellar jobs anyway; Willard worked as the manager of some bank for most of his adult life and Jane had been a stenographer and secretary in an office.

Anyway, it was best to keep our encounters to a minimum to reduce the bloodshed to only two or three times a year. Lisa didn't mind me staying at home; someone had to look after the dog- that was her excuse as to why I didn't come along.

I stood in the doorway and waved goodbye, looking forward, actually, to a little time to myself. A little time to think.

I went into the kitchen and got a beer from the refrigerator and went into the living room. Copper followed me and sat down just in front of the couch as I sat down, the dog knew he wasn't allowed on the furniture, Lisa's rule, not mine.

I set the bottle of beer on the coffee-table and turned on the TV but turned the volume all the way down. The dog looked up at me with his liquid brown eyes before lying down with his chin resting on my feet.

I had just phoned Sam a couple of days before and he had sounded fine, I guessed, a little tired but, hey, with a two-year old and a new baby I didn't expect much.

I had to ask him if he'd been having any more nightmares- he had answered no without hesitation and that made me relax a little. I decided that if he was having nightmares he'd tell me, since he had told me about the one where he'd been convicted of killing his family.

There hadn't really been much to talk about. We had avoided the subject of me and Lisa and the boys visiting next month. I knew he didn't want me to come to Montana but of course I was going to ignore him.

All in all the conversation had been somewhat subdued, Sam seemed distracted and to tell the truth, I had a lot on my mind with work- the project was going to take longer than anticipated to finish and that set all upcoming jobs back for months so that I had to deal with a lot of unhappy people.

Always, always my thoughts were never far from my brother. I couldn't help but worry about him almost constantly. He had gone through so much, too much and I felt that I needed to protect him.

"What am I going to do with him? Eh, Copper?" I looked down at the golden retriever lying at my feet.

The rest of the night I made sure not to think of Sam. I needed some time just to myself- to relax and worry about my wife and kids without being concerned with my brother. I broke my promise though. I really wanted to know what was going on with Sam. I wanted to know why he was acting the way he was, if there was anything I could do to help him…

SPN

I sat in my office at the Butte Public Library, staring listlessly at the screen of my computer. It was in the early evening, a little after three o'clock and I was tired from staring at the screen for the entire day. I know I could have gone out, done some other work around the library or taken a walk on my lunch break but I had a lot of stuff to do and not enough time to get it done.

I stifled a yawn and blinked my eyes, trying to ease the slowly building stress. I hadn't ended up hiring more people; it seemed no one was really interested in working at an old, barely-used library. I decided it wouldn't hurt if I went home early, just this once.

I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair, turned off the computer and headed downstairs. I saw Christine working away in the Children's section- putting books back on their shelves, rearranging the big beanbags, etc.

"I'm ducking out," I called to Christine.

"Alright, have a good night Tim," Christine answered, straightening up so she could watch me leave.

"You too. Don't work too hard," I said and walked outside.

The evening was warm and sunny. Something I missed being stuck in the coffin of an office. I unlocked the pickup truck and drove at a leisurely pace down the quiet streets, heading out of Butte and toward Petite.

Sarah wasn't back from the Gallery yet when I pulled into the driveway of our ranch house and since I usually came home much later, I didn't really know what to do with myself.

I stood and stretched my stiff back and wandered into the kitchen. That morning Sarah had put a roast in the slow-cooker and now it gave off an appealing aroma. I looked around the kitchen and decided I could get a head-start on the dinner prep for Sarah. I turned on the stereo in the living room and the song 'Grand Illusion' by Styx came on.

I peered into the fridge and grabbed a head of lettuce, a carrot, cucumber and tomato and began cutting up the vegetables for a salad.

By the time Sarah and Faith and Aaron came home at six thirty dinner was almost ready. Sarah smiled with surprise to see me home early and that I had helped out with the meal. It wasn't that I just sat around while Sarah cooked; I just always seemed to come home really late when Sarah had already made dinner.

Sarah and I chatted amiably, she told me about the goings on in Petite, how all her friends from town were doing. I often felt bad that I didn't get to spend as much time with my family as I would have liked to, since I spent most of my time driving to and from work I sometimes felt like I was a guest in my own home.

Sarah told me not to worry about it though; she would often joke that if I had become a lawyer, she would only ever see me once in a blue moon.

Once dinner was finished and all the dishes were in the washer, Sarah went upstairs with Faith to give our daughter a bath. I went outside to visit the horses.

It was still early evening; the sun was low and orange on the horizon. The three horses were far out in the field.

I strolled down the long driveway to where the mailbox was and paused. Across the road a large black van was parked on the shoulder. Its windows were tinted so I couldn't see the driver. I opened the mailbox and took out a small stack of envelopes. I turned around and heard the van's engine start up as it drove down the road.

Probably someone stopping to check their map, I thought idly as I looked through the bills.

I wandered back to the house at a leisurely pace, I wasn't in any hurry. I set the bills on the kitchen table and couldn't help but heave a sigh. Sometimes I missed using fraud to get out of paying insurance and the like.

Sarah and Faith came downstairs. Faith was wearing a pair of pink pajamas with cartoonish cats on them. Sarah had changed into a pair of old jogging pants and an oversized t-shirt. I smiled at my two girls and we went into the living room to watch TV before it was time to tuck Faith into bed. Aaron was already asleep in his crib. I hoped that he'd stay asleep for a little while longer.

My daughter's room was pink. The walls and ceiling were painted a neutral white, but everything else was pink. The carpet, the bed sheets, the lamp and nightlight were all shades of rose to magenta. Faith's bed was covered in stuffed animals.

Faith lay in bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, getting ready to read to her. Faith would pick a different book from the bookshelf downstairs and no matter what it was I would read it, tonight she had picked David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. I knew my daughter did not understand most of the words in the books I read to her but I think she just liked to hear the sound of my voice or my presence was comforting to her while she fell asleep or something because every evening I would just make it to the end of the first page and I'd look down to find Faith fast asleep. She never liked to have Sarah read to her, even if my wife continue in the same book I had been reading, Faith would just stare up at her mother, refusing to close her eyes until I came in to read to her.

I opened the Dickens novel and began to read, "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously…"

I read until I had reached the end of the page and as I expected, Faith was in deep sleep. I smiled, closed the book and leaned down to kiss my daughter's brow.

I left Faith's room, the book under one arm and headed back downstairs to find Sarah sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in easy reach.

"If you keep reading to her like that she'll be a genius before she even gets into kindergarten," Sarah smiled.

I had read to Faith from Machiavelli's The Prince, Cervantes' Don Quixote, Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles, Melville's Moby Dick and even Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass just to name a few.

"Then maybe she'll grow up to make something of herself, unlike her father," I said half-jokingly.

Sarah's brow wrinkled and she reached out her hand to me and bade me to sit beside her on the couch.

"Sam, don't be like that," Sarah said and looked at me with her steely grey eyes. It wasn't that I wished I had finished school and became a lawyer, I don't know, I just wasn't sure how Faith would feel about me once she was in junior high and high school. Now she looked at me with unconditional love in her eyes but how long would that last?

I smiled back at Sarah and kissed her.

I stood and moved to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine and rejoined Sarah in the living room.

We watched some movie on the TV. I wasn't really paying that much attention to it anyway. I had a headache but I tried to ignore it. I wanted to enjoy time with my wife.

I sighed with contentment and Sarah looked at me, a smile on her upturned lips.

"What?" Sarah giggled and searched my face.

"Can't I just be happy to be with my family?" I asked playfully.

"Of course," Sarah leaned forward and kissed me.

"Are you tired yet?" Sarah asked, "I think I want to read for a little bit."

I shrugged, "alright."

We stood and made our way upstairs to the bedroom. Sarah changed into a black satin nightgown and I took off my shirt and pants so I just wore my boxers. Sarah turned on her bedside lamp and crawled into bed, her back propped up against some pillows.

She took her book from the dresser beside the bed and opened it. I looked and saw she was reading The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.

I wasn't really in the mood to read anything so I lay down on my side of the bed, pulled the sheets halfway up my chest and closed my eyes. I always had difficulty sleeping now so I concentrated on breathing slowly and steadily. I listened to Sarah's calm breaths and tried to mimic them.

Eventually Sarah stirred- she put her book away, turned off the lamp and lay down. I opened my eyes. Sarah was lying on her side facing me. I looked at Sarah- her dark hair flowed her shoulders and out of sight across the pillow, her face was pale in the darkened room, her eyes like silver coins until she fell asleep.

I lay awake. As I usually did. Waiting for sleep to come.

The next day, Saturday, I woke early as I always did, changed into some old clothes and went down to the barn to take care of the horses.

When I came back inside I put coffee in the maker to brew and went upstairs to take a shower. I stepped out of the shower I put on some clean clothes and paused. Despite the warmth of the bathroom I felt a chill of foreboding. I suddenly felt as if something was going to go very wrong, very soon.

"Nothing is going to happen," I told myself out loud, "everything is alright."

But I couldn't seem to shake the feeling.

I went downstairs and poured myself a cup of coffee. I leaned against the counter and listened as Sarah moved around upstairs. My wife came down the stairs, wearing her bathrobe and slippers.

"Morning," Sarah smiled and stepped onto tiptoe and kissed me.

I smiled and kissed her back.

"I need to do some grocery shopping today if you'd like to come with me," Sarah said. She knew I'd go with her without even asking.

Sarah when to shower and I got Faith's bowl and spoon and cereal out. I stifled a yawn as Sarah came downstairs carrying Aaron who looked more asleep than awake. It had been Sarah's turn to sit up with our son but I hadn't heard her get up in the middle of the night.

"Did Aaron sleep through the night?" I asked.

"He woke up around two but you were sleeping so soundly I don't think you heard him," Sarah smiled. She set Aaron in his chair and he brightened up at the prospect of breakfast.

I poured her some coffee and handed the mug to Sarah.

"Faith's still asleep and I don't want to wake her just yet," Sarah said and sipped some coffee.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Sarah asked and set her mug on the counter.

"Nothing," I answered and took a drink of my coffee.

"No, something's the matter," Sarah said seriously.

I shook my head, "it's not important."

"You sure?" Sarah asked.

I nodded, "I'm sure."

I decided I was just being paranoid.

Sarah and I ate our breakfast and while she was putting the dishes in the washer I went upstairs to wake up Faith.

My daughter was sleeping curled up under her pink blankets, a stuffed giraffe under one arm. Her dark brown hair was frizzy and tangled around her head.

I went over and sat down on Faith's bed. I leaned down and kissed my daughter's head. She rolled over and opened her dark blue eyes.

"Daddy," she said sleepily and reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck in a hug.

"Come on Sweetheart," I said and picked her up and carried her downstairs.

I sat at the kitchen table with Faith while Sarah showered.

Faith chatted to me as she ate her Lucky Charms.

I should call Dean, I thought to myself. I knew I had just called him a week or so before but I thought I should talk to him again and soon. I still didn't really want him to come up this way every month but I didn't want to lose contact with him.

Sarah came downstairs wearing a pair of beige capris and a dark brown v-neck t-shirt. Her long black hair was pulled into a loose bun at the back of her head. She had put on some green eye shadow and mascara.

I went upstairs next- I brushed my teeth and opened the medicine cabinet and took out my pills. I opened the bottles and shook two of each pill into my hand.

I'll have to drive up to Butte soon and renew my prescription; I thought and swallowed the medication with a generous helping of water. On Monday, after work I decided. I wasn't in dire need of the pills yet but I didn't want to run out altogether.

After our customary walk the four of us piled into the Audi and drove to the small town of Petite.

We parked the car outside of the Gallery and Sarah, Aaron, and Faith went into the tiny grocery store. I walked across the street to the hardware store to chat with Ralph for a while.

As I spoke with the round, good-natured Montanan I couldn't help but feel that sense of foreboding again.

"Excuse me a minute," I looked outside. Sarah had put the groceries in the trunk of the car and was now standing with Faith beside her and Aaron in her arms as she spoke to Mallory Clements who worked at City Hall.

Ralph paused as I walked outside the hardware store and stood on the sidewalk.

The day, previously bright and cloudless now seemed less warm and safe.

"Sam Winchester?" I heard an unfamiliar voice call my name and I looked down the street to see an older man striding toward me.

I didn't recognize this man- he was not from Petite where I knew all of the residents, either by name or face.

This man had to be in his late sixties or early seventies. He was wearing black combat boots, green camouflage pants, a grey 'wife-beater' and army dog tags around his neck. His grey hair was close-cropped and his face was lined and weathered.

"Do I know you?" I asked when he came to a halt just in front of me.

"No, but I have been dying to meet you," he said and smiled.


	16. Trick Of The Light

"I've heard a lot about you Sam Winchester," he said.

Who was this guy? I thought and then suddenly I realized that he must be a hunter!

"Who are you?" I asked. I looked around and noticed that nobody took any interest in us. Sarah was still talking with Mallory.

The hunter grinned. His teeth were very straight and white.

"Jonah Thompson."

Shit, I thought. Both Bobby and Dad had told me to keep this nut-job at a distance.

"What do you want?" I said, trying to remain calm. He appeared to be alone but I was sure his apprentices would not be far away. Would he try anything in the middle of busy downtown Petite? That is what worried me.

In answer Jonah lifted both arms and motioned as though sighting down the barrel of a rifle. He pointed his hands directly at my chest.

"Bang," he whispered, "you're dead."

Jonah than swung around and pointed his invisible weapon at Sarah and Faith.

"Bang… bang… bang," he whispered, acting out shooting my wife and daughter and son.

"You son of a bitch," I said, deadly quiet.

Jonah turned to look at me and I saw that he was completely confident.

I looked across the street to my family and when I went to speak again to Jonah he had disappeared.

I didn't even think about what I was doing. I sprinted across the street toward Sarah and our children, almost getting hit by a pickup in the process.

"Sarah! Sarah!" I shouted.

"Sam?" Sarah turned at the sound of my voice with a look of concern on her face.

"We have to go. Now," I said and took hold of Sarah's elbow.

"Sam! What's wrong?" Sarah asked as I guided her toward the car. Mallory stared at us.

"Please, just listen to me," I said and got into the driver's seat. Sarah put Faith and Aaron into their car seats and got into the passenger's side.

I pulled out of the parking lot and drove in the direction of our house.

"Sam, talk to me!" Sarah begged.

"You're in danger," I said and fished my phone from the pocket of my jeans, and punched Dean's number in with one hand.

"Dean!" I said as soon as my brother answered.

"Jonah Thompson knows where I live- he spoke to me… and he threatened Sarah and the kids," I said quickly before Dean could speak.

"I'm going back to the house right now to grab my things… will you meet me at Bobby's?" I asked, now giving Dean a chance to talk.

"I'll meet you there," Dean said soberly.

I closed my phone and gripped it in my hand as I drove quickly home.

From the backseat I heard Faith whimper.

"Sam, what is going on?" Sarah asked.

"There's a hunter and I think he's after me and I need to leave so you'll be safe," I said without looking at Sarah.

"But I thought that was all over," Sarah said.

"So did I," I said, mostly to myself.

I pulled into our driveway and parked at an angle.

We got into the house and immediately I went upstairs and grabbed my duffel bag and began stuffing clothes into it.

Sarah stood in the doorway of our bedroom, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked terrified.

I brushed past her in my haste and went into the bathroom to grab my toothbrush, etc. and my pills.

I went downstairs and grabbed my jacket out of the closet. I turned to Sarah.

"I need to leave for a little while," I said.

"Sam-" Sarah began to speak.

"I think you should go to New York, stay with some friends," I continued. I wasn't even thinking clearly- all I thought about was Jonah Thompson killing my wife and little girl and baby son.

"Sam-" Sarah tried again.

"Dean and I have dealt with hunters like this before… they're single-minded and they won't stop until one of us is dead," I explained.

"Sam!" Sarah said loudly but not in anger, she was just trying to get my attention.

She raised her hands and placed them on either side of my face, "do whatever it is you have to do… and come back."

I heaved a sigh and looked around at the house, our house and wondered if I would ever return there.

"I love you Sam," Sarah said, her grey eyes were large with fear.

"I love you too Sarah," I said and kissed her.

Sarah took a step back and I walked outside.

I went to the pickup truck, tossed my duffel bag onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the driveway.

I looked toward the house and saw that Sarah was standing on the porch with Faith in her arms. Both waved goodbye. I raised a hand and waved back but I couldn't smile.

As I started down the road that would take me in the direction of South Dakota all I could think about was Jonah Thompson.

SPN

I was shocked when Sam called me to tell me Jonah Thompson had spoken to him and threatened his family. Sam had sounded almost frantic on the phone, almost to the point that I didn't want to believe him.

Maybe he was just getting that paranoid feeling like before when I had visited a few weeks ago. I didn't know- and that scared me.

Just to be safe though, I packed some luggage into the Impala and told Lisa I needed to go to Bobby's for a little while. When she had asked how long I would be I answered, truthfully, that I didn't know.

I wasn't sure if Thompson would go after Lisa and the boys but just to be sure I asked Lisa to go visit her cousins Maggie and Shane in Atlantic City, Delaware. Lisa had protested- she said she couldn't go; she had work and didn't want to be stranded if I didn't return immediately.

Okay, I had said, but please, please be careful. I had begged Lisa to call the police if she saw any suspicious people or strange cars on the street.

Lisa had looked at me like I was crazy- does this have anything to do with Sam? - she had asked and I didn't lie to her. Yes, I had said. Lisa didn't say anything but just gave me a look that meant she was not happy. Well, Lisa was never happy about anything that had to deal with my brother so that wasn't news to me.

I prepared myself for a long trip to Sioux Falls. I wasn't happy about driving through two states to get to Bobby's but I knew I had to suck it up and get this over with. Besides, if Sam and his family were in danger then the drive through Illinois and Iowa would be worth it- especially if we could confront good old Jonah face to face and put an end to this.

It was nice to be driving the Impala again though. I couldn't help but smile as I backed out of the garage and pulled out of the driveway. I turned on the radio and jacked the volume when an AC/DC song came on and I sang along to 'Rock n' Roll Ain't Noise Pollution'.

Almost two days later I drove past the chain-link fence that surrounded Bobby's junk yard. I parked in the wide driveway beside Sam's pickup truck. I had decided not to rush to Sioux Falls, exactly but didn't drive like a tortoise either.

I stepped out of the Impala and stretched. I hadn't bothered to stop at any motels along the way, when I felt tired I just pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and slept like that- I had done so before when I was strapped for cash and it really wasn't that big of a deal.

I closed the door of the car, grabbed my duffel bag from the trunk and moved toward the house.

I had just reached the porch steps when Rebel bolted out from amongst the totaled cars and rushed at me snapping and barking. As soon as he saw me though, the dog calmed down and walked over, his stubby tail wagging happily.

I leaned down to pat the Rottweiler's head and I looked up when Bobby opened the door.

"Took you long enough to get here Dean. You sight-seeing along the way or something?" Bobby growled.

I scowled, "Sorry I didn't drive like I was in the Indy 500 Bobby, but I didn't feel like getting arrested for driving like a maniac."

"Don't apologize to me Dean," Bobby answered.

The old hunter moved out of the way and I stepped inside. Bobby's house looked exactly as it always did- full of books and odds and ends and the occasional piece of hunting paraphernalia.

Sam stepped out of the kitchen, a beer in one hand, looking like he'd been on the edge of his seat the entire time he'd been here.

"If you wanted me to rush why didn't you call and say so?" I asked my brother before he could speak.

Sam just shook his head.

"Want a beer?" Bobby offered and I dropped my duffel bag on the floor.

"How long have you been here Sam?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Took me eighteen hours to drive here non-stop," Sam answered. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was worried.

Bobby brought a beer out for me and one for himself.

"Okay Sam, can you tell me what happened?" I said to my brother, opened the bottle of beer and took a swig.

Sam looked slightly embarrassed as though afraid he'd appear stupid but after a moment's pause he spoke.

"I just had this… feeling, I don't know, I just felt as though something bad was going to happen. I didn't worry too much about it; I sort of passed it off as nerves or whatever. We went into town though so Sarah could do some grocery shopping and I was just across the street, talking to Ralph Petrovich. I stepped onto the sidewalk and heard my name so I turned and saw Jonah," Sam said.

"What did he say to you?" I asked and took another drink of beer.

"He said he had really wanted to meet me… and then he threatened me… and then Sarah and Faith and Aaron," Sam continued.

"What'd he do?" I pressed.

"He mimicked shooting me and then them," Sam said and I could see fear in my brother's eyes.

"Did anyone else see him do that?" I wanted to know if there had been witnesses.

Sam shook his head, "then he just… disappeared…"

"Disappeared?" I paused, "he, what, was there one moment and then the next he was gone?"

"Yeah…" Sam confessed, "I know what you're thinking Dean but I didn't just imagine Thompson was there. How could I? I've never met him before!"

"Okay," I said and then asked if there had been anyone else who could have seen Thompson talking to him.

"Ralph," Sam answered, "I think he was watching when I stepped outside of the hardware store."

I nodded and looked at Bobby.

Sam looked at me. I wasn't quite sure I believed he had actually seen the hunter.

"What did you do when Jonah disappeared?" I continued the questioning.

"I sort of panicked… I ran across the street, told Sarah she was in danger and drove home as fast as I could," Sam said, looking more and more worried that I wouldn't believe him.

"Where are Sarah and Faith and Aaron now?" I asked.

"They went up to New York from the Helena airport," Sam assured me, "they're staying with Sarah's friend, Tanya."

I nodded and finished my beer. I wanted to believe Sam, I really did but I had my doubts, especially since there may have been no other witnesses to the encounter.

"So what do we do now Bobby?" I asked the old hunter.

"I guess we wait for Jonah to make the first move," Bobby answered.

"So we're just going to hang around here like sitting ducks and wait for that fruitcake to show up?" If he does show up, I thought silently.

"Thompson found Sam in Montana; no doubt he'll probably track him back here."

I sighed. What exactly did Thompson want, other than to blow Sam away that is?

"Can you tell us all you know about Thompson, Bobby?" I asked and moved further into the house, into the living room and sat down on the pink wing-back chair. Bobby sat down in the matching blue one and Sam remained standing.

"Jonah's one dangerous human being when he wants to be… he was stationed in Saigon during the Vietnam War and as far as anyone can tell he was good at one thing and that was killn'- he killed as many Vietnamese as he did his fellow soldiers (accidently he said- friendly fire and all that). Well the story goes that while he was overseas, Jonah had his first taste of the supernatural- his entire platoon became possessed and almost killed him. Jonah, o' course took them all out… flame-thrower. After the war Jonah decided he needed to take care of all the beasties over there and after a while that was all anybody heard of him. He does take on apprentices though from time to time," Bobby said thoughtfully.

"But what's making him come after Sam and me?" I asked.

Bobby looked genuinely surprised, "I don't know Dean. Maybe he heard about Sam tripping the Apocalypse and decided that… you know… Sam needed to pay."

Sam's face scrunched up. I knew he was upset, still, about starting the end of the world.

"Hey, don't worry about it Sammy, we'll take care of Jonah," I said in what I hoped in what was a comforting sort of way.

"I'm gonna take a walk," Sam said.

"Hold on," I said, "are you sure that's safe?"

"I'll just go out to the field in the back, okay?" Sam said and walked out the front door.

Bobby shrugged and went into the kitchen to get some more beers.

"Hey Bobby, where's Sam's duffel?" I asked, "I want to see if I can get any more info on Jonah Thompson."

"The upstairs guest bedroom," Bobby called absent-mindedly from the kitchen.

I climbed the stairs into the floor of the house I barely saw.

The staircase and floor were wooden. There was a bathroom and two bedrooms, the master and one for guests.

The doors to the master bedroom and bathroom were closed tight but the guest bedroom door was ajar. The hallway was covered with a worn, woven, rectangular rug. The walls were covered in faded floral-patterned wallpaper. There were old framed photos of Bobby and his wife, Karen, on the walls.

I pushed open the door of the guest bedroom and peered inside. A single-sized bed sat on a blue area rug. The bed was unmade, Sam's duffel bag sat on it.

I stepped into the room. Sam's cell phone sat on the dresser beside the bed.

I unzipped the duffel and pawed through it, searching for Sam's laptop.

I picked up the bag and tipped it upside down, spilling its contents onto the sheets.

Sam's computer wasn't there, obviously.

I looked down at the objects that lay strewn on the bedspread.

I picked out three orange prescription bottles.

Curious, I picked one up and read it- inside was lithium pills. The patient's name was Col. Simon Preston and the prescribing doctor was an Edgar Post.

I examined the other two bottles. They contained the same two other medications that Sam had been taking the year he had been mysteriously liberated from Lucifer's cage.

"Damn you Sam," I whispered and grabbed all three bottles.

I stomped down the stairs, the laptop completely forgotten.

"Bobby!" I said loudly and entered the living room. Bobby peered out from the kitchen.

"What the Hell are these?" I asked, holding up the prescription bottles for him to see.

Bobby blinked, "Dean," he began but I cut him off.

"How long Bobby?" I demanded to know.

Bobby didn't answer.

"Never mind, I'll ask Sam when he comes back," I waved the old hunter away and sat down on the couch facing the large picture window.

Not ten minutes later Sam came back inside. He closed the front door quietly and turned to walk into the living room. On seeing my tense posture Sam was immediately on edge.

"Dean?" Sam said and stepped into the living room.

I stood and presented the bottles.

"How long Sam?"

"Dean, I was going to tell you-" Sam started but I didn't want excuses.

"How long?" I demanded again.

Sam's turned his gaze to the floor, "two years. I got Bobby to write the prescription shortly after I came to Montana."

"When were you planning on telling me?"

"I was going to tell you… later," Sam said, still refusing to look at me.

"Later? Like when? Tomorrow? Next week? Next month?" I asked, sarcastically, "or were you waiting until something bad happened to you and then you'd have no choice whether you wanted to tell me or not?"

"Dean," Sam looked at me now.

"I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me," Sam said.

"Oh, you always say that! That's always your excuse for keeping secrets," I said, my voice filled with venom.

"Dean, please," Sam said, "would you just listen to me for a minute?"

"No Sam," I said, "I don't want to hear anything you've got to say."

Sam looked hurt but kept his mouth shut.

"You're selfish, you know that Sam? You're childish," I said.

"I'm always going to worry about you, even when I'm sixty-four," I explained.

How could Sam act like this? How could he keep something as important as this from me? I curled my hands into fists.

I turned on Bobby now.

"Why didn't you tell me Bobby?" I asked the hunter.

"Sam asked me not to Dean and I wasn't about to go behind his back," Bobby said, looking at me pointedly. He hadn't told Sam my secret so he wasn't going to tell Sam's to me.

I turned away from Bobby.

"What do you want me to say Dean? I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier… I just thought that when I killed Lucifer the PTSD would end with him but I was wrong. I guess I was… scared Dean. I was scared to admit to you that I wasn't a hundred percent," Sam said slowly, calmly.

"So you thought that it was okay to lie to me instead?" I asked, still furious at my brother.

"I'm sorry," Sam said slowly, as though that would help get his message across to me.

I raised one fist and punched Sam in the face.

My brother staggered backwards, one hand against the side of his face. He stared at me in disbelief.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed.

Bobby stepped forward and gave me a shove, "that's enough Dean!"

I backed up and wiped a hand across my face. This was more than I could take right now what with Jonah Thompson gunning for us and now Sam's revelation that he was still medicated I needed to sit down and have a drink… or twenty.

I didn't really want to see Sam right now. I was afraid I would beat the crap out of him if I was near him.

I walked outside, slamming the front door behind me.

Rebel came padding up to me but seemed to realize I was in a mood and he slunk between some dilapidated cars and out of sight.

I unlocked the Impala and slipped into the driver's seat. I cranked the volume up full blast and listened to 'House of Jazz' by AC/DC.

I pulled out of Bobby's driveway and sped down the dusty road toward the town, looking for some alone-time at the local bar.

I went into town and stopped at the first bar I saw. I found an empty booth at the back and ordered a beer. I sat hunched over my drink- brooding and angry.

I couldn't believe Sam wouldn't tell me about the PTSD. I couldn't believe that after everything that had happened he still thought it was okay to lie to me- it was almost a compulsion with him to keep me in the dark about something.

I drank bottle after bottle of beer, trying to drown my problems I guess. I wasn't even thinking about Jonah Thompson right then- my thoughts were solely focused on my brother and all the times he had ever lied to me. I knew that it was not the time to be dwelling on Sam's past mistakes but I couldn't help it. All I could think about was Sam lying about having visions of Jessica's death for days before it actually happened, Sam's lies about his psychic powers, Sam lying to my face about Ruby and his addiction to demon blood…

I knew I wasn't a saint either, far from it but as I finished my fifth beer I wasn't going to give Sam the benefit of the doubt- he should know better, he was an adult after all and if he didn't want to be treated like a child then he shouldn't act like one- all I had ever asked was that he come to me first if something was troubling him and he couldn't even do that.

After a while I got up and drove extra slowly back to Bobby's just in case any cops decided to pull me over just to give them something to do.

I opened the door to Bobby's house quietly and stepped inside. My brother and the old hunter were in the kitchen and didn't know I was back yet. I could hear them talking… about me.

"I don't see how it's any of Dean's business Bobby." I heard Sam say.

"I know Sam," Bobby said.

"I mean, the PTSD isn't as bad as it was before, I can manage it. If I thought Dean should know about it then I would have told him," Sam continued.

Bobby didn't reply so Sam continued.

"I don't understand why Dean thinks he needs to know everything about my life! I feel like he doesn't want me to have any privacy," Sam exclaimed.

Did Sam really feel that way? Was I smothering him? Of course Sam thought that way, why else would he tell me not to come up to Montana every month anymore?

"Sam, I know this is hard for you but you've gotta know that Dean's just trying to look out for you like he always has," Bobby interjected.

Ah Bobby, always the mediator.

I heard Sam sigh, "I just wished he'd give me a little breathing space."

I stepped further into the house, announcing my presence.

Sam and Bobby peered out from the kitchen.

"Is that how you feel Sam?" I asked. I don't think I was drunk, I was just upset and after so many beers I wasn't thinking perfectly straight.

"Dean-" Sam began but I interrupted him.

"You don't want me around anymore?" I asked and stepped forward, closer to the kitchen.

I saw a dark bruise had formed just below Sam's eye. I must have hit him pretty hard then.

"That's not what I mean Dean," Sam protested.

"Then what do you mean Sam, cause I would really like to know," I growled.

"I just want to have some things kept private Dean; you don't need to know every aspect of my life- especially now that we're through with hunting and all that," Sam said and stepped out into the living room to meet me.

I scoffed, "you can't have anything private Sam because whenever you do, whatever it is it's always bad!"

"I can't believe you Dean! After everything that's happened you still insist on treating me like a child!" Sam exclaimed.

"Then stop acting like one Sam! Maybe that's the solution, you think?" I said loudly.

Sam raised a hand dismissively, "we have more important things to deal with right now Dean-"

I tackled Sam before he could finish his sentence. We both landed on the floor- I pinned Sam down with my knees and prepared to pummel him- Sam raised his hands to fight me off.

Before I could attack my brother though, Bobby grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me away from Sam. Even though the old hunter was somewhat shorter than me he held me by the scruff of my neck and shook me like a puppy.

"If you two want to kill each other go outside 'cause I'm not going to spend all afternoon mopping blood up from my living room floor!" Bobby shouted in my face.

I pulled away from Bobby and fixed my shirt. I glared at Sam who was just standing up. I didn't think he looked like he wanted to fight me. His previous fiery temper seemed extinguished by everything he'd been through in the past few years- going to Hell, his 'illness' once he had been freed and his near-suicide seemed to moderate his anger issues.

"Dean, take a cold shower would you?" Bobby suggested in such a way that wasn't meant as optional.

I grabbed my duffel bag from where I had left it on the living room floor, brushed past Sam and went to the upstairs bathroom.

I made sure the water was freezing before I stepped under the showerhead. Even though I shivered I didn't move until I was sure I was thinking clearly.

After I had dried myself with a towel and changed into some clean clothes I looked in the mirror and couldn't help but feel ashamed of my actions.

I was supposed to be helping my brother and so far all I had done was harm him. This was neither the time nor the place to be fighting with Sam. I could still be pissed that he'd lied to me but right now I'd let it slide, we needed to concentrate on Jonah Thompson.

I made my way downstairs and found Sam sitting in Bobby's pink wingback chair, his laptop propped on his knees. Bobby was leaning back in his desk chair, his boot-clad feet resting atop a pile of books on the desk's wooden surface. The old hunter was looking intently at an iPad.

"You actually know what that is?" I asked, indicating the iPad and sat down on the couch.

"Am I not allowed to enter the twenty-first century?" Bobby growled sarcastically.

"Be my guest," I said and leaned back.

"So what are we going to do about Jonah?" I asked. I still wasn't keen on the idea of staying here and waiting for him to come to us.

"There are something strange disappearances going on down in Lafayette, Louisiana and I thought, maybe, for appearance's sake you boys might like to check it out," Bobby said.

Sam looked up from his laptop.

"Strange as in a serial killer or as in a supernatural son of a bitch strange?" I asked Bobby.

Bobby gave me a withering look, "what'd you think?"

"Bobby, you do know that we are retired? You do know what that means, right?" I asked.

"I know that, smart-ass, but it's better than sitting here twiddling our thumbs don't you think?" Bobby said.

"What's so weird about these murders?" Sam asked and closed his laptop.

"Well, I was talking to the local police in Lafayette and apparently they can find nothing that connects the victims to one another which is odd for a serial killer," Bobby began.

"They weren't the same gender? Didn't have any similar physical features? Didn't go to the same church, or grocery store or school?" Sam asked.

Bobby shook his head, "they are all completely different from one another in age, gender, place of worship, work…"

"What else?" I asked. I couldn't help but be a little bit curious.

"They were all kidnapped in the middle of the night from locked houses and there was no sign of forced entry at any of the victim's homes," Bobby continued.

"Could it be a striga maybe?" Sam suggested.

"Sure, if the victims were all children I'd say so but they aren't," Bobby said.

Sam looked at me. Maybe a vampire? Or a demon?

"So all the victims have nothing in common and they're all taken in the middle of the night from locked houses," I said, listing off the facts of this case.

Bobby, Sam and I looked at one another. We weren't sure what to make of this- it could be something paranormal or it could be a really, really good serial killer, a professional or whatever.

"They haven't found any of the victims yet?" Sam asked.

Bobby shook his head, "it's like they just vanished off the face of the earth Sam."

"So why do you want us to look into it?" I asked.

"It'll get you two out of my house for one," Bobby said.

"And two?" I asked.

"I know you're both retired but it might intimidate Jonah somewhat if he sees you still know what you're doing," Bobby said.

I looked at Sam. I could see Bobby's point. Besides, if Sam and I were moving around it might keep Jonah's attention fixed on us instead of our families. I would have agreed to do this, one last job, if it wasn't for Sam. I wasn't sure he'd be up to it. After everything he'd been through and with his PTSD I was uncomfortable with the idea of my brother hunting again.

"Would you think about it at least?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah Bobby," I answered.

Sam nodded. He set his laptop aside and moved to Bobby's bookshelves.

"Can I talk to you a minute?" I asked Bobby and the two of us moved into the kitchen for a semblance of privacy although I was pretty sure Sam knew I wanted to talk about him with the old hunter.

"I'm worried about Sam," I said and helped myself to a beer from the fridge.

"What else is new?" Bobby said sarcastically.

I scowled at him and continued, "I'm all for this Bobby, I don't mind one last go but I am not sure Sam would be able to handle it."

Bobby looked at me a minute and then said, "Sam's strong, you know he is… look, if it's bugging you that much just go down to Louisiana and take a look around, just confirm whether or not these disappearances are anything supernatural, you don't even have to hunt down anything- I know some fellows down there that'd love to kill a demon or two just for the Hell of it."

"Okay," I said and relaxed. I really didn't want to go to Louisiana- I told Bobby I didn't mind but I was lying to him- I really didn't want to get back into the life of a hunter even if it was for show.

I guess I didn't have much of a choice though.

The three of us spent the rest of the day quietly, Bobby and I tried to do some research on what could be making the residents of Louisiana vanish into thin air- without much luck due to our skimpy information- and I kept trying to decide whether or not it would be a good idea to even leave the old hunter's place anyway. I had always seen Bobby's salvage yard as a sanctuary and an arsenal combined- it was protected from most supernatural prying eyes and it was full of every type of monster-killing weapon you could ask for. Oh, yeah, and of course it had Bobby Singer too- a wealth of information and a surrogate father figure for Sam and me.

I decided that maybe Sam and I could stay at Bobby's, at least for a little while. It wouldn't hurt anyway, could it?

Sam spent the better part of an hour talking to Sarah on his cell phone. I could tell by the tone of my brother's voice that he missed his wife and children, that he was sad that this had happened in the first place after being so careful.

When Sam closed his phone I couldn't help but ask about his family.

"How're they doing?" I asked from where I lay stretched out on the couch with a book propped against my chest.

"Good, despite the circumstances I guess. Sarah's trying to act like they're on a vacation. She's already taken Faith and Aaron to Central Park and they're going to see the Museum of Natural History tomorrow. Faith's getting suspicious though, she's only two but she can tell when Sarah and I aren't happy and Sarah said she's asking when I'm going to come there," Sam said.

"Don't worry about it Sam, we'll stop Jonah and you and Sarah and Aaron and Faith will be back home in Petite before you know it," I said assuredly.

Sam nodded. He looked a Bobby for a minute and ran a hand through his hair almost unconsciously- something was troubling him.

"What's up?" I pushed myself up on my elbows so I had a better view and set the book down on my stomach.

"Is this my fault Dean? Did I do something that made me stick out and attract Jonah's attention or did I miss something- I mean, I was careful about using my real name only in town (I always used Tim McIlrath while at work) and our phone number isn't even listed-" Sam began but I gently interrupted him.

"This isn't because of anything you did Sam," I said softly.

"Jonah an' his boys were searching probably for something for someone to string up as soon as they got whiff of the Apocalypse and after a lot of rumors and hearsay got to 'em they decided to come after you," Bobby continued.

Sam looked at the old hunter, the three of us knew it wasn't all rumors and hearsay but Bobby didn't say otherwise.

Sam looked a little relieved to hear that whatever his actions or omissions they didn't cause his family to have a Bull's Eye painted on their back.

I snapped my fingers in an attempt to gain my brother's attention and tried a change of subject.

"Who's looking after the horses?" I asked.

"Sarah called up Ernie Meyers and his sons are going to look after them until we get back," Sam said.

"What'd you tell Coombs?" I continued.

"Said Sarah and the kids and I were going to see some of her relatives up in New York State for a few days," Sam said.

I knew Sam had become good friends the sheriff and his deputy, Leo Larkin.

"You should have seen Lisa's face when I told her I needed to go away for a little while- you'd think I had said I was going to Neptune the way she acted," I said in good humor, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

"How'd the boys take it?" Bobby asked.

I shrugged, I hadn't really told them- let Lisa make up a lie for once.

"Ben will understand and S.J.'s kind of young to know why I was going away," I said and picked up the book again.

Sam paced around the living room annoyingly. I tried to keep my attention on the words on the pages but my eyes kept flicking over to see what Sam was doing. He seemed to be a big ball of nervous energy right now.

"Sam, would you do that somewhere else? You're making me dizzy," I muttered.

Sam stopped pacing and by the look on his face hadn't seemed to realize he had been walking around and around the room for the past ten minutes or so.

Bobby looked up from his desk; he had been so absorbed in his own research he was deaf to what was going on in the rest of the living room.

Sam sat down on the pink wing-back chair and heaved a sigh. After about two minutes he stood and walked to the desk where I had sat the pills after confronting my brother.

I watched as Sam looked at the small orange bottles, picked them up and headed upstairs with them.

Sam was obviously beginning to stress-out and that was not a good thing if we were about to leave for Louisiana on some faux mission in order to take down a crazed hunter.

"I think I should go this alone Bobby," I said to the older hunter.

"Dean, you two can't split up. You need to be with Sam to help keep him safe," Bobby said. He spoke quietly, aware that the subject of our conversation was just up the stairs.

"Maybe we could make Jonah think Sam's with me and I'll lead him away from the real target," I suggested.

"How do you propose we do that then, genius?" Bobby asked sarcastically.

I paused, I didn't really know. I was just throwing ideas out there.

"Sam's stressed already with the idea of Jonah being out there somewhere, I don't think it's going to calm him down any when we actually have to confront him," I said. Once again I was in protective older brother mode- I couldn't help myself.

Bobby sighed; he didn't really know what to do exactly as much as we did.

We stopped talking when we heard Sam coming back downstairs. Bobby stood and grabbed another book from one of the shelves behind his desk and I returned my gaze to the book I had.

Sam didn't say anything so I wasn't sure if he'd overheard our talk or not.

It grew later and my eyes were growing tired from hours of reading book after book with no idea whatsoever about what could be harming the citizens of Louisiana.

We stopped around six thirty to eat.

Bobby suggested that it might be a vampire- it wasn't all that uncommon for the blood suckers to kidnap people from their homes either for food or to make more vamps.

Sam had done some research on the victims and he was skeptical about Bobby's latter theory.

"Out of the ten people missing three of them were older than sixty, four were children younger than fifteen and the last three were in their mid- to late twenties," Sam recited- so out of that, only three of the missing people might have been infected with the vampire virus.

"So what about the other seven? Food maybe?" I asked.

Sam shrugged, "maybe."

Also, out of the ten, six of the victims had been male and four were female so it was a little difficult to tell whether the vampire (if it was a vampire) was male or female. You see, like human serial killers, vampires often go after human victims of the opposite sex (I say often but that is just a generalization not a rule, so don't quote me on it) since it is easier for a female vamp to attract a male human victim and vice versa.

"What about a ghost?" Sam mused.

Ghosts usually haunt buildings or a specific location that meant something to them while they were living but they can also be attracted to objects or artifacts (especially if they once belonged to the ghost in question) and a few (poltergeists for example) would even attach themselves to an individual or family.

But it was unlikely that a ghost had anything to do with these disappearances- the victims in question were appearing more and more to have been picked at random since they had no connection, at least none that we could see yet.

We ruled out werewolves- they were too violent in nature to pull off such a disappearing act, and we didn't think it could be a shape-shifter- even they couldn't get past locked doors or security alarms without leaving some kind of evidence behind.

So all we had was a vampire (maybe) or a demon. Those seemed to be our two best guesses.

"This would be a whole lot easier if we had more information to go on!" Sam complained.

"Yeah, or a body," I muttered.

Both Bobby and Sam gave me an 'I can't believe you just said that' look.

"What?" I asked, "I know it sounds terrible but it's true."

"Let's call it a night," Bobby said, "I'm beat and you two are going to have a long drive tomorrow morning."

When we finished eating we stashed all the dishes in the washer and let it run. Instead of more fruitless research the three of us played poker for a while (for chips only, not money since Sam and I would need all the money we could get for our little rendezvous with Jonah).

I wasn't sure what time it was, late- after midnight I'm sure- when I passed out on Bobby's couch. Sam and the old hunter had made already made their way upstairs and after a couple of minutes of sitting on the couch petting Rebel's dark head (and missing Copper) I fell asleep…

… The next morning dawned dark and cloudy- a storm was on its way, or so the weather foretold. I sat up, yawned and looked at my watch- it was only seven forty-five. I shrugged and stood, still wearing the jeans and shirt from the day before. I kind of shuffled into the kitchen, put coffee grounds into the maker and turned it on.

I was just pouring myself a cup of joe when Sam came into the kitchen.

"Morning there Sleeping Beauty," I chuckled. This was late for Sam- he always got up super early to take care of the horses.

Sam grunted something back and got himself some coffee.

"How long do you think it will take us to drive to Louisiana?" Sam asked and sipped his coffee.

"If we stop at night it'll take us four or five days," I said and set my mug down on the counter.

"And if we don't?" Sam continued.

"Two and a half," I said with confidence.

"You know I can drive too? We could take turns or whatever," Sam suggested.

I shrugged. I wasn't sure if I wanted Sam to be driving the Impala now that I knew about the PTSD and especially now that he was obviously stressed. If I did let Sam drive though I'd feel most comfortable with him doing so during the day.

Sam said he wanted to take a quick shower and he walked out into the living room- I barely had time to comprehend what was happening as Bobby's front door burst open and what had to be a dozen or more guys rushed inside.

A group surrounded Sam and I just had time to see my brother go down before pain exploded in the back of my head and I lost consciousness.

"I think he's coming 'round," I heard an unfamiliar male voice say as my eyelids fluttered and I lifted my head.

I peered around, trying to take in my surroundings all at once. The back of my head hurt like a son of a bitch and I could feel dried blood had matted my hair and trickled down the back of my neck. I was sitting in a chair, one of the chairs from Bobby's kitchen actually, with my hands cuffed behind me and to the chair itself. I saw Sam sitting a few feet across from me, bound as I was. Sam hadn't recovered yet, his head lowered, his chin was resting on his chest.

I looked around and saw about nine people I didn't recognize loitering around Bobby's living room like they owned it.

Eight of the people were pretty young looking- none of them could have been older than twenty. There were five guys and three girls. They all wore plain clothes, nothing that stood out- jeans or khaki pants, boots or sneakers, t-shirts, etc. but the colours were muted in earth tones- grey, green, brown or black.

The ninth guy though looked old enough to be the grandfather of any of the eight. He was clearly an ex-Military man- he stood ramrod straight, legs together as though at attention. He wore heavy black boots, green camouflage pants, a brown t-shirt and a camouflage jacket over his shoulders. He was tall and in-shape for such an old guy; he had grey crew cut hair and a tanned face from being outdoors a lot.

"Jonah Thompson," I said, gritting my teeth and twisting my wrists around in the handcuffs as though that could help me escape.

Jonah grinned, "the one and only."

How had he and his goons gotten past the dog? Where was Bobby?

I looked around and near the door I saw Rebel's body, stiff and cold, a pool of blood showed that he'd been shot in the head.

Bobby on the other hand was lying at the bottom of the stairs, there was no blood to indicate foul play but that didn't comfort me at all. The old hunter did not move.

"This isn't funny Jonah! Let us go," I said to the crazed hunter.

"Or what?" Jonah asked, "You're the one who's cuffed to a chair, not me."

"Is this funny to you?" I demanded.

Jonah's expression turned serious, "no. There is nothing funny about what your brother has done."

I was about to speak when I heard Sam groan and I turned my attention to him.

"Sam! Can you hear me?" I asked and Sam raised his head. He looked at me with bleary eyes. He had a split lip and a black eye- Sam must have tried to fight off Jonah's goons.

Jonah stepped forward between us.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" the hunter asked my brother who was just beginning to process what was going on.

"What?" Sam asked and tugged at the handcuffs, "what the Hell?"

"What do you have to say Sam Winchester?" Jonah tried again.

"Jonah, let me go!" Sam demanded, "I haven't done anything to you!"

Jonah moved to Sam's side so I had a view of him and my brother.

"You didn't do anything," Jonah said in a thoughtful voice. He glared down at Sam like my brother was the worst kind of monster out there.

"So you didn't start the Apocalypse?" Jonah asked.

"I can explain-" Sam began but was interrupted when Jonah sucker punched him in the abdomen.

"It's over Jonah! There is no Apocalypse!" I shouted at the hunter.

Jonah ignored me and turned to Sam.

"Are you just waiting? Biding your time?" Jonah asked.

"Dean's telling the truth," Sam said.

"That's what you want everyone to think but you won't fool me," Jonah said, "I can see right through your lies."

Sam looked confused, "what are you talking about?"

"You are not human Sam Winchester," Jonah said.

"Of course I am!" Sam cried, "if you would let me explain-"

Jonah punched Sam again, this time in the face. Sam's head snapped back and I actually heard his nose break. Blood gushed freely down Sam's chin.

"Jonah, please don't do whatever it is you're thinking," I begged, "we have families Jonah- Sam has a little girl and a baby son."

Jonah ignored me though, he walked around Sam as my brother twisted around, trying to keep the hunter within his line of sight.

This can't be happening, I thought frantically as I desperately tried to get my hands free of the cuffs.

"Do we have to spell it out for you in crayons? The Apocalypse is over!" I said to the hunter.

Jonah advanced on Sam, this time holding a large hunting knife.

I shouted at Jonah, "don't do it!"

"Jonah, please… there is no Apocalypse- it's over, I… I ended it," Sam tried to speak, watching the hunter with terror.

"You will not win Sam Winchester," Jonah said and stabbed Sam.

I shouted as Sam cried out in pain and in my panic to get to my brother I flipped the chair I was sitting in onto its back so I couldn't see what was going on- but I could still hear it.

I knew when Jonah stabbed my brother because Sam would cry out. It must have only been three or so minutes.

Someone put my chair upright again and I saw Sam was bleeding from at least a dozen or more wounds. He was panting and sweat matted his hair to his forehead.

"Please… please…" Sam begged. I saw that the fear and stress was taking its toll on my brother and he had seemed to have slipped into a memory of Hell.

Jonah sneered down at Sam with contempt.

Sam shuddered even though Jonah hadn't touched him.

"You son of a bitch!" I shouted at Jonah and then turned my attention to Sam.

"Sam, hey, look at me. Sam, I'm right here," I said, trying to get Sam to snap out of it.

Sam muttered something I couldn't hear and looked around as though confused.

"C'mon Sam, I'm right here," I continued.

I needed to bring Sam back to the here and now but I wasn't sure how. Before, when he slipped into hallucinations I had always kept my distance or watched cautiously until they passed, especially if he looked like he wasn't going to try and run away from his unseen foe.

I looked at Jonah and decided to try a different strategy- if it worked it would be a miracle, if it didn't…

"There is no Apocalypse Jonah, I know you know it's true," I said.

"I have heard the truth from many hunters; they all say the same thing- the end of the world is upon us thanks to your brother," Jonah said.

I shook my head, "we both know that hunters gossip more than teenage girls. They tell tall tales like they're going out of style and always try to one-up each other. Sam really has nothing to do with this- someone with a grudge against our family probably made it up."

"I was told Sam Winchester was dead," Jonah said. He could mean when Roy and Walt filled us with buckshot or when Sam had been in Hell for eighteen months or when Sam had been gunned down right here in Bobby's living room.

"I made up that rumor Jonah," I explained, lying obviously. I hoped this would work.

"Sam couldn't take the stress of hunting anymore and the pressure got to him- you know that happens to hunters- I said Sam was dead to protect him," I said.

Jonah looked at my brother. Sam's head was lowered, he wasn't muttering anymore and I wasn't sure he was even conscious.

"He's sick Jonah, he's got PTSD," I said truthfully.

"Let me take him to a hospital and we'll call this a misunderstanding and go our separate ways," I practically begged.

For a moment I thought Jonah was going to let us go but then he said, "Sam must really have you wrapped around his fingers if he's got you flat-out lying for him Dean."

I opened my mouth in astonishment.

"Haven't you been listening to anything I've just said? It's all rumors! Sam isn't a bad person, Jonah, he's not a monster," I said.

Jonah though, seemed to have lost interest in talking. He still had the knife he had stabbed Sam with and he now approached my brother.

"No, Jonah, please don't kill him! Jonah, I'm begging you," I said. Already I could feel hot tears welling up in my eyes.

"Think of his family Jonah: His wife and little girl and baby son!" I continued to plead but Jonah was beyond reasoning.

The hunter stood behind Sam and grabbed a fistful of my brother's hair and pulled his head back so his neck was exposed. I could see Sam's eyes were mere slits- he had already lost a lot of blood and was no doubt in a great deal of pain.

Jonah raised the knife and paused as though for effect.

"Jonah! Jonah, you bastard! I'll kill you!" I shouted, fighting so hard against the handcuffs that the metal cut deep into my wrists so I could feel blood seeping stickily down my hands.

Jonah looked at me as he brought the blade down and cut Sam's throat- hot blood splattered out as his carotid artery was severed.

I wanted to look away but I couldn't- I watched as crimson blood gushed from the wound to stain Sam's clothes and pool beneath the chair. I didn't think I would ever forget the sound of my brother choking to death on his own blood. Sam bled out in minutes- his head fell forward as though he was unconscious once more. I could only stare in horror at my brother's body- only hours ago he had been alive; he had everything to live for in his wife and children- now in one callous move he was gone again.

The tears had begun to overflow and now made their way down my face feverish with grief and adrenaline.

"You coward," I whispered to Jonah. What kind of a person, a hunter, kills a defenseless man?

My stomach knotted with nausea and I wondered if I was going to throw up.

I heard Jonah move forward and I looked up to see him advancing on me with the knife still slick with Sam's blood.

I allowed my expression to show all the hate I felt for this man. I didn't speak but found myself hoping, almost praying that he was bound for Hell when Death came for him- something I would never wish upon my worst enemy but this time I allowed myself to give in to that animalistic desire to see Jonah burn for his crime.

Jonah stepped behind me and grabbed my hair roughly. I didn't even blink; I watched him as he raised the knife and brought it swinging down on my vulnerable neck…

… I woke with a start, my hand going automatically to my throat. I sat up and looked around. It was early morning by the way golden light was pouring through the big picture window in the living room and the tiny window above the sink in the kitchen.

I ran a hand down my face and then through my hair. I checked my watch- it was eight twenty-seven. I stood and padded softly to Bobby's front door and peered outside. It was quiet except for the chirruping of crickets and the songs of birds.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard Rebel's nails clicking across the hardwood floor as he came to investigate.

I moved to the kitchen and got the coffee brewing. Rebel followed me so I sat on a kitchen chair and scratched behind the dog's ears while I waited impatiently for the coffee.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and when I peeked into the living room I saw Bobby, fully dressed (including a baseball cap) and ready to go.

"Looks like you've seen a ghost there, Hamlet," Bobby said as he entered the kitchen.

"Nah, just didn't sleep too well," I said and waved away the question.

Bobby nodded in sympathy- maybe he hadn't slept well either.

"Sam still asleep?" I asked and poured a mug of coffee, handed it to Bobby then poured one for myself.

"His door was closed so I'd expect so," Bobby said.

"Hm," I muttered, my eyebrows unconsciously knitting together with worry.

"What?" Bobby asked.

"Sam normally gets up at the crack of dawn," I said.

"Maybe he's just sleeping in for once then," Bobby suggested and slurped at his coffee.

I wasn't sure. Sam liked routine, even when he was a kid he had liked to know where we were going and what we were to be doing with an almost Obsessive Compulsive intensity. That was probably one of the things that annoyed me the most about my brother: his strict adherence to schedules and routine, but there was also his possessiveness with his things, his habit of apologizing for everything and, of course, his tendency to lie about or completely omit important information.

I sighed and drank some coffee. Sam was stressed, I knew that, and with the PTSD still in affect that would make his stress level worse.

"What if Jonah comes by when we're gone?" I spoke up. I was worried about leaving Bobby alone.

"He won't. If he knows you two have left, and he will, there's no doubt about that, he'll follow you," Bobby said.

"So what, is he watching the house or something?" I asked. That thought was kind of unnerving.

Bobby shrugged, "or one of his apprentices is."

Yeah, one of those kids who didn't look like they'd graduated from High School yet.

"I hate this as much as you do Dean, but this is the only way to keep him away from your families," Bobby said.

"Too bad we couldn't just talk to Jonah like rational human beings and explain everything so he'd leave us alone," I muttered. I didn't think that Jonah would pause to hear what we had to say for ourselves, explain what was going on, especially after my dream; I knew there was no chance of getting him to go away without a fight.

"I wish we could send out a newsletter or something to every hunter to let them know the truth of the matter," I muttered more to myself than anything.

Bobby nodded.

"I should go wake Sam up, we've got a lot of driving ahead of us," I set my cup on the counter and made my way upstairs.

The door to the guest bedroom was indeed closed. I stood there for just a moment, I didn't really want to have to wake up my brother in case he hadn't had enough rest but then decided that we needed to leave as soon as possible and Sam could always sleep in the car.

I opened the door slowly and my heart leaped into my throat when I saw the bed was neatly made up and empty.

"Sam?" I said even thought it was obvious he was not in the room. His duffel bag sat on the bed, ready to go but Sam had seemed to have vanished.

I turned around and stomped down the stairs.

Bobby looked at my worried expression curiously.

"Sam's gone," I said.

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Bobby asked.

"He wasn't in his room!" I felt panic rising. Maybe I was over-reacting but I couldn't help it when we had a hunter-turned-assassin hot on our heels.

"Don't panic Dean," Bobby said in a calm, gruff voice.

Easy for you to say, I thought harshly but then regretted the thought. Bobby was just trying to help and maybe I shouldn't be jumping to conclusions.

Sam was a notorious wanderer. When we were kids he would disappear for hours on end but he'd always show up sooner or later. It pissed Dad off to no end but that was just Sam's nature to go off quietly and be by himself for a while, especially if they'd just had an argument.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the front door open- my nightmare still fresh in my mind.

I looked toward the door and calmed immediately when Sam stepped inside. He was already fully dressed, prepared to leave. He was wearing his old sneakers; a pair of blue jeans and a dark green long-sleeved shirt that made his green eyes look very bright.

Sam stared at my expression, "what?"

"What were you doing?" I demanded.

"I moved my truck so it wouldn't be visible from the road, changed its license plates and I covered it with a tarp," Sam explained.

"Why didn't you let me know?" I asked.

"I was only outside for, what? A half hour at the most and you were sleeping so I didn't want to wake you up," Sam said.

"How long have you been up?" I wondered.

Sam yawned as if on cue and muttered, "five fifteen or so."

"How're you feeling?" Bobby jumped in.

Sam shrugged, "fine. I'll be better after we deal with Jonah though."


	17. The Road I'm On

After a quick breakfast of bacon and tomato sandwiches Sam and I grabbed our duffel bags and headed out to the Impala.

We threw our stuff into the trunk unceremoniously and I opened the drivers' side door. The hinges creaked as always. I looked over at Bobby who had followed us outside.

"Watch your back Bobby," I said to the old hunter.

Jonah was unpredictable and I wasn't sure if he'd come after Bobby since the old hunter was helping us. If Jonah didn't know where we were going he might try to get the location from Bobby.

"I can take care of myself," Bobby said gruffly.

"I know you can," I said.

"You two just take care of each other," he continued.

I nodded. We had dealt with this sort of problem in the past and we'd always pulled through.

"Call me when you stop," Bobby said.

Sam, standing on the passengers' side, nodded, his expression serious.

"Now get out of here, I'm tired of lookin' at ya," Bobby said and I smiled as I slid into the seat at the old hunter's insulting, yet somehow affectionate goodbye.

Sam opened his own door and sat down with a sigh.

I pulled out of the salvage yard's long, narrow driveway and headed in the direction of Sioux City, Iowa.

I turned on the radio as soon as we hit the highway and smiled when 'Ramble On' by Led Zeppelin came on- I took that as a good sign and sang along with the music unabashedly, ignoring Sam who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

We didn't speak to one another for a long while. I was still mad at him for not telling me about the PTSD and the medication.

I think Sam was just missing his family; he stared out the passenger side window, watching as cars, fields and the occasional scraggly hedge fly by.

After a little while Sam's head nodded toward the window and he closed his eyes, fast asleep. I turned down the music to a dull roar and tapped my fingers against the steering wheel in time with the rhythm.

With nothing to do but listen to music I spent my time thinking of how we were going to deal with Jonah. If he was anything like he had been in my nightmare that meant he'd use his Army experience to its full potential- that was apparent in his ambush of Bobby's house. My dream also made it clear that the Jonah was not afraid of a long-time hunter like Bobby so what chance did Sam and I have against him when we'd been inactive for three years.

I whispered aloud to myself, "he's not going to stop and listen to us…"

I sighed; I wasn't sure how we were going to confront Jonah without ending up dead. All we seemed to be doing right now was giving him a chase.

No, I argued, we're keeping that nut-job away from our families.

We really didn't know why Jonah was after us, we were just making an educated guess that he'd been told Sam had started Apocalypse and felt my brother needed to pay.

We made Sioux City in just over four hours. We stopped at a gas station to stretch and fill up the Impala. While I was paying for gas I grabbed a bag of beef jerky and a couple of chocolate bars. I didn't really want to stay in one place for too long in case Jonah got impatient and decided to attack before we got to Louisiana.

Within ten minutes of getting gas we were driving again. This time Sam had the wheel. I hunkered down in the passengers' seat and started munching some jerky.

"Want some?" I held the bag out to Sam.

My brother looked at me like I was offering him a bagful of severed fingers instead of dried meat.

"No thanks," Sam said tightly and I shrugged.

After six hours we had passed Omaha on the Nebraska border and now it was a little after seven o'clock in the evening, actually it was closer to seven thirty because Sam drove slower than I did.

I took over driving again and made it to Kansas City, Missouri in another six hours. Now I was tired and Sam had fallen asleep again with his head leaning against the passenger window. It was too late to get a room; it was after one thirty in the morning so I found a deserted stretch of highway and pulled over onto the gravel shoulder just enough so that we were in no danger from being hit by other drivers but also so that we were within sight of the road.

I turned the engine off, unbuckled my seat-belt and hunkered down to get at least a few hours of sleep before we had another day of driving.

I must have only been asleep for a half an hour when my phone's ring tone went off in my pocket. I jumped and hit my knees against the dashboard.

I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket and opened it.

"Jesus Bobby! What'd you want?" I grumbled into the speaker.

"Here I was thinking you were trying to set a record by getting' to Louisiana in a day," Bobby said sarcastically.

I had forgotten to phone him.

"Ah shit Bobby, give me a break. I was exhausted," I rubbed my face with one hand and glanced over at Sam who was still sleeping.

"Just wanted to make sure you're still with us," Bobby continued.

"Have you found out anything else about the missing people?" I asked.

"No," Bobby said, "but you boy's are lucky- the FBI still isn't involved in the case yet, they don't think it's worth lookin' into yet since no bodies have surfaced and none of the victims are connected."

"Great," I muttered and yawned. At least we wouldn't have to compete with the Feds once we got there.

"I'll call you later Bobby," I said and hung up before Bobby could make a snide remark.

I tossed my phone up onto the dash and sighed. I found a comfortable position and fell back asleep again.

I was woken once again, not by my cell phone but the soft click- clack sound of Sam typing on his laptop. I groaned and checked my watch- it was only 3:15 in the morning.

"Do you have insomnia or something?" I asked my brother, mostly out of annoyance.

Sam shrugged, "sometimes."

I stared at Sam, I hadn't expected that answer.

"Well since you're awake, why don't you drive, I'll sleep," I said and we switched seats. Sam stashed the laptop back into his duffel.

I hunkered down so I had my head resting against the window frame and closed my eyes as I felt the car move down the smooth highway.

"Dean, wake up," I heard Sam say and felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Whussup?" I muttered, still half asleep.

I sat higher in the seat and looked around- we were still on the highway but it was sunny out now instead of dark.

"Where are we?" I asked and wiped a hand down my face and yawned loudly.

"A few hours outside of Kansas City," Sam said.

I checked my watched and saw that it was six a.m.

"Let's grab something to eat," I said, "I'm starving."

Sam glanced at me, "sure. Once we find civilization again."

We drove for a while longer until we found a tiny, one-horse town. I don't even remember its name it was that small. I think it was something generic though, like Glenview or Fairfield or Riverton or something, doesn't really matter anyway.

Sam pulled the Impala into the driveway of a Dunkin' Donuts- the only restaurant in town other than the Green Panda Chinese Restaurant and Take-Out and I wasn't in the mood for greasy, MSG- filled spring rolls or dumplings for breakfast.

We grabbed a couple of coffees and two breakfast sandwiches each and paid. The cashier was an older man who took our money and returned the change with puffy-eyed indifference.

On the way out Sam paused and grabbed a copy of the New York Times newspaper from the stand marked 'FREE'.

I slid into the driver's seat this time. I wanted to get to Joplin at least before the evening and it would still take us roughly nine hours.

As I drove I put a cassette in the player and listened to Led Zeppelin as Sam read the paper. I wolfed down my sandwich like it was the most delicious food ever invented and gulped down my coffee. Sam ate in a more distracted manner as he read. He had grabbed his pills from his duffel bag as we idled in the parking lot and he drank all six of them down with the last of his coffee.

When he was finished with the paper, instead of setting it aside, Sam dug around in the glove compartment, found a stub of a pencil and began doing the crossword on the back of the New York Times.

I looked over at my brother, impressed he knew the answer to 'Crater Creator' in ten letters was ARCTANGENT.

I couldn't help but smile until I saw the strange expression on my brother's face. It was a mixture of nostalgia and bitterness that I had rarely seen. I could only guess it had nothing to with the crossword itself, Sam was speeding through it with the ease of a genius, but what the puzzle symbolized.

"Sam?" I turned down Zeppelin and asked.

"Hm?" Sam looked up, he wasn't even paying attention to me.

"What are you thinking about?" I ventured. I knew it wasn't really any of my business but I wanted to talk to my brother and this seemed like an ice-breaker of sorts, maybe not the best but at least it might get Sam talking.

"Nothing, it doesn't matter," Sam said and looked back at the puzzle.

"No, there's something on your mind," I pressed.

Sam sighed and folded the paper and set it on the dashboard.

I glanced at Sam, my eyebrows raised in expectation.

"I was just thinking about a girl I met once," Sam said, his voice serious- obviously this was not a good memory.

"When?" Sam had never really been a chick-magnet if you know what I mean. Yes, girls did find him physically attractive, I guess, but Sam was shy and he didn't really talk a whole lot and I suppose most girls like a guy who will keep eye contact and won't fidget nervously. Well, it had been like that before Sam had gone to Stanford and met Jessica Moore. She had apparently been drawn to his quiet, mysterious personality.

"Uh, a few years ago, Dean… why does this matter?" Sam asked defensively.

"It doesn't, I was just curious, I don't know…" I said.

Sam had just shot me down and now I stared at the black ribbon of road that seemed to stretch out indefinitely before us.

I heard Sam sigh and out of the corner of my eye I saw him run a hand through his hair.

If Sam didn't want to talk about it than neither did I. Whatever, I didn't really care but I couldn't really think of any girl he'd had a strong attachment to in the past few years besides Sarah. Maybe he was thinking about Madison- that would explain the bitter look on his face, that almost regretful expression.

SPN

I was thinking about Lindsey- the waitress at that bar I had worked at for a few weeks when I had unsuccessfully, desperately pulled out completely from hunting and tried to live a sane, anonymous life.

I had seen the newspaper and on a whim grabbed one. I only remembered Lindsey when I had turned to the crossword puzzle and recalled her astonishment that I had actually solved the one at the bar.

After Tim and Reggie attacked us I had tried to come up with some attempt at a rational explanation to placate Lindsey but she freaked (understandably) and kicked me out after she frantically called the police.

I felt terribly guilty that I had almost got Lindsey killed because my past had followed me. I did not return to the bar, even to collect my last pay check. I regretted the fact that I had tried to have a normal life at last and I couldn't because it seemed like some higher power was determined to keep me in the game.

That notion seemed almost prophetic when Lucifer informed me of the role I was supposed to play.

When I had called Dean I hadn't expected his reaction. I don't know what I was looking for, I didn't know what I wanted him to do but I was not expecting him to say it'd be best if we avoided each other like the plague. I had called my brother hoping for some kind of support but instead had received the cold shoulder- Dean had acted indifferent to this news. Of course I didn't want him to jump in the Impala and drive all night to see me and start panicking or coddle me or something but anything would have been better than what he'd said. Basically Dean told me I was on my own.

I looked over at Dean, focused intently on getting to Joplin early enough to get a motel room. I thought about when he had called me, days after our conversation when I was afraid that I'd never speak to him again, to tell me that he wanted me to come back. I can't begin to explain how relieved and grateful I was when I heard Dean's voice on the other side of the line. I had been looking at a lonely future without my brother, unsure of what to do or who to turn to- I knew we had our problems but we had always sorted them out together and it wasn't any different then. Dean had told me about the little field trip to the future Zachariah had sent him on and we had both agreed that that was not going to be our future. We had agreed to do everything in our power to change what Zach had said would come to pass. And well, it did, here we were now- miles away from our homes on our way to the Bayou State to check out a case for Bobby and keep a less-than-sane hunter away from our families. All things considered, it was far better than the alternative.

SPN

Both of us were lost in our own thoughts for a while. We were still hours from Joplin and I was ready to just stop and rest.

Sam called Sarah and spoke to her around noon hour. He asked how she was holding up and assured her that he'd let her know when we were in the clear. Sam talked to Faith as well and I could tell from the sound of his voice and his expression that he was missing his daughter badly.

I insisted on driving until we reached Joplin despite Sam's protests that I needed to sleep.

I just cranked the music loud and sang along to The Who's 'Pinball Wizard' and 'My Generation'.

We stopped to eat a quick lunch in a roadside diner in the middle of nowhere.

I kept driving and driving and driving. Sam eventually fell asleep again, perhaps out of sheer boredom.

I shook Sam awake just after three forty-five as we entered Joplin.

"Hey, we made it," I said with more than a little pride. I was glad we had finally arrived here, at least now we could get a motel room and wouldn't have to sleep in the car.

Sam looked around for a second to get his bearings then stretched and yawned.

I pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the first place I saw- the Victoria Motel. It looked decent and it had tons of vacancies.

Sam grabbed our stuff while I went and got a room for the night.

The middle-aged woman at the desk smiled broadly and said 'Welcome to Joplin' as though it was paradise on Earth or something.

I paid in cash- I wasn't going to use a credit card, even one with a fake name, just in case Jonah stopped here to investigate though I knew we wanted him to follow us but not too closely until my brother and I were ready at least.

Our room was pretty normal looking for a motel- two beds, a TV, one of those bathrooms with an exterior sink and the shower and toilet in the tiny room itself. There was a small round table and a couple of chairs with dark green padding in one corner of the room. The floor was carpeted in dark brown, the walls papered in beige and brown stripes.

As soon as Sam and I entered the room I dropped my duffel bag and flopped down on one of the beds with a sigh. Sam set his bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the other bed, looking at me.

"What?" I asked and turned my head so I could see my brother's face.

"Are we going to talk about Jonah?" Sam asked.

"Of course, just give me a minute Sam, I've been driving for hours and I need a second to breathe," I said, a little annoyed.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

I sat up and looked at him.

"Look, we're going to stop Jonah, okay?" I said. I knew he was stressed- Jonah had threatened his family for God's sake but I just needed a little time to gather my bearings.

"Okay, yeah, I know Dean," Sam said and leaned down to pull his duffel bag closer. He rummaged around for a moment before pulling out an orange medication bottle. Sam popped the cap off and shook two pills onto his palm and swallowed them dry.

I raised an eyebrow at my brother.

"Lithium," Sam said and tossed the bottle back into the bag after recapping it.

"Hey, don't ask don't tell, right Sam?" I said, hands raised in a sort of surrendering gesture.

Sam gave me a hurt look, "that's not fair Dean."

I shrugged and lay back down on my back.

I must have fallen asleep as I lay there because when I woke up Sam was no longer sitting on the opposite bed and my watch read five thirty.

I sat up and looked around. Sam's duffel bag was exactly where he had left it but he was not in the room.

I stood and looked to the table where I had tossed the car keys when I had entered the room- they were gone.

"C'mon Sam," I muttered and walked to the bathroom to take a piss.

Okay, maybe I had been a little out of line with that comment but I couldn't help it- it still stung that Sam hadn't trusted me enough to tell me about the PTSD. I know I should have left well enough alone and not opened my big mouth but sometimes I couldn't help it. Hey, Sam said things before he thought too, he wasn't innocent of that.

Maybe you could cut him some slack, I thought to myself as I washed my hands at the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. At least until we stop Jonah, I finished and wiped my hands on the fluffy white towel provided.

Since I didn't have access to the Impala and I didn't want to go wandering around Joplin with a crazed hunter on the loose I turned on the television and tried to find something to watch until Sam returned.

Twenty minutes later I heard the unmistakable growl of the Impala's engine and the creak of her door as it was opened and closed.

I turned off the TV and stared at the door looking as dejected as possible.

Sam slipped inside, carrying take-out bags of food. He awkwardly returned the car keys to the table and turned to look at me.

"You didn't leave a note, the car was missing, what am I supposed to think?" I exclaimed in mock anger.

Sam looked at me for a moment and then chuckled and shook his head.

"Sorry, I was hoping to be back before you woke up," Sam said and set the bags on one of the beds.

"You just looked so sweet laying there I didn't have the heart to wake you," Sam continued, a wry grin on his face.

I snorted laughter. I guessed my earlier comment about the medicine was forgotten or forgiven.

"What'd you get?" I asked expectantly, indicating the take-out which smelled delicious.

Sam shrugged, "nothing worth five stars, I can tell you that."

He pulled a foil- wrapped package from one bag and handed it to me.

I opened the foil and was pleased to discover a bacon double cheeseburger- my favourite.

After we finished eating Sam wanted to talk about what we were going to do when we did encounter Jonah. There were no 'ifs' we both knew that we'd face the hunter eventually.

I crumpled up the foil from my burger and tossed it in the trash can across the room.

"Do you think he'll talk?" Sam asked. The last thing we wanted was violence and we were hoping to resolve this without bloodshed but I didn't think Jonah was the type to just sit and discuss things democratically.

I shrugged, "I really don't know Sammy. I mean, both Bobby and Dad have told us that he's more than a few fries short of a Happy Meal and usually those kinds of guys don't want to listen to what anybody has to say."

Sam nodded. He didn't even tell me not to call him Sammy. I knew he was really troubled. I guess he was remembering Kubrick and Gordon Walker- two hunters bent on killing him- they hadn't paused to listen to reason and they had both ended up dead.

"I think that if we do have to kill Jonah the rest of his gang will back down," I said. This would be the best outcome- if we got rid of their leader, Jonah's goons would lose their motivation and scatter like roaches.

Sam looked skeptical, "but they've been trained by Jonah- he's got a military background so he's probably told them that if anything was to happen to him to continue the mission themselves. Like in any battle you keep going even if your general's been taken out as long as you can kill as many of the enemy as you can."

I tried to be optimistic, "but they're just a bunch of kids and we're veteran hunters. I think they'll turn tail and run when they see what we can do. Even if Jonah's labeled us as Bad Guys we're well known enough that I don't think they'll have the guts to attack us."

Sam looked at me, "we were once kids too and if Dad was on a hunt and anything happened to him you'd do anything to continue it until the end because that was what he'd taught us to do. You know you would. Think about Azazel."

"Okay, but Azazel was different. He was a demon. He was after you," I tried to argue Sam's point even though he was right.

"Then these kids will certainly make it personal, they'll want revenge for Jonah's death," Sam said.

I sighed. I didn't know what to do. I was almost certain we'd have to gank Jonah but I didn't want to start having to massacre his apprentices or whatever they were.

I turned the TV back on and stared at some movie, I think it was Aliens or something like that.

Sam began pacing around the tiny room- back and forth, back and forth, back and forth….

"Hey, are you trying to wear a hole into the carpet?" I asked after a while and Sam hadn't stopped pacing.

Sam looked up at me, he appeared distracted.

"Let's get some fresh air," I stood and slipped my boots on.

Sam seemed embarrassed that I had noticed his pacing. He pulled his sneakers on though and followed me outside.

"How're you feeling?" I asked, trying to sound concerned and forget that Sam hadn't told me about the PTSD.

Sam looked at me and I could tell he wasn't feeling too hot.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked.

Sam shook his head, "not unless you have a surefire cure for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. We were both stressed and worried about our families and with the PTSD no wonder Sam was a little cranky.

I figured that a good night's sleep in a real bed would do a world of good for both of us. I still felt exhausted and all my muscles were painfully tense. I hoped that we had some Advil or something in the Impala because I didn't think I could stay like this for the rest of the trip to Louisiana.

Sam and I wandered back to the motel room. I found a bottle of painkillers in my duffel bag and took two of the reddish pills, washing them down with vending machine soda.

My brother no longer paced but instead he sat on one of the beds, playing with his wedding band- turning it around and around on his finger.

I phoned Bobby and told him we had made it to Joplin.

"Congratulations, but I hate to tell you, you were aiming for Lafayette," Bobby growled.

"You're just a barrel of laughs aren't you?" I grumbled.

"Has Jonah shown his ugly head yet?" the old hunter asked.

"Not yet but hey, the night's still young," I said and sipped the rest of my soda.

"You'd better hope Jonah doesn't wanna say hi just yet," Bobby said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Well, are you two ready to take on him and his apprentices?" Bobby got me on that one.

"Touché," I said and crumpled the empty soda can in my fist.

"How's your brother?" Bobby asked quietly.

I looked at Sam, he was stressed and nervous but other than that he appeared to be alright.

"He'll be better once we deal with Jonah," I muttered. I really didn't like talking about Sam while he was in the same room but I didn't have much of a choice.

"How're you holding up?" Bobby asked voicing concern.

"Me? Heck, I'm great! Couldn't be better," I began, "I just love running from crazy ex-military men who believe God told them we're evil, and I really enjoy hunting again, man, I forgot how much I missed it-"

Bobby stopped my sarcastic tirade, "okay, okay, I get your point."

Bobby sighed and then I sighed.

"When's it going to end Bobby?" I asked seriously.

"I don't know boy, I really don't know," the old hunter muttered.

"Yeah, well, I'll call you again when we stop tomorrow," I said and closed my cell phone.

The rest of the day Sam and I kind of hung out. I watched some TV, called Lisa and talked to her and then took out my gun collection and cleaned all of them since I didn't really have anything better to do.

Sam was on his computer for most of the day.

We ordered pizza for dinner since neither of us felt like actually leaving the room. We didn't speak much, we were both anxious to get to Louisiana and I was surprisingly tired.

After we polished off the pizza Sam and I watched some TV movie, something about giant man-eating bats were killing people in New York City where they were being transferred to be researched in a laboratory for an unknown reason. It was a complete B-grade film but it was slightly entertaining and kept our minds off Jonah and his companions for a little while.

I insisted we go to sleep early (and by early I mean midnight) so we wouldn't be total zombies in the morning.

As soon as the lights were out I practically passed out- I hadn't realized how tired I actually was. I slept throughout the night without waking once.

SPN

Dean fell asleep within minutes and slept like the dead. He was lucky.

I lay awake, lying on my back, staring at the ceiling as the red numbers on the alarm clock changed ever so slowly.

It wasn't that I was not tired, I was, but I had difficulty falling asleep and then staying so, especially if I was stressed. It was just a symptom of the PTSD- I could take all the medication I had but sometimes that wouldn't help.

My mind was occupied with thoughts of my family- I was very worried about them even though they were in New York. I was still nervous that Jonah might harm them.

I wished I could explain things to Jonah Thompson- make him understand that the Apocalypse had been averted and I wasn't dangerous.

I wondered why Bobby was sending Dean and me to Louisiana to look into the missing persons' case. There was a good chance that it had nothing to do with the supernatural at all and we'd be wasting our time driving all the way to Lafayette.

As I lay there I tried to concentrate on breathing slowly and steadily- maybe that would help me fall asleep.

I turned my head and saw it was two o'clock in the morning. I sighed and knew I would get no sleep now. I listened to my brother snoring softly in the next bed and just closed my eyes until I heard Dean get up.

"Rise and shine! The Impala's not going to drive itself to Louisiana," Dean said from across the room and I feigned waking.

I sat up, yawned and stretched.

"What time is it?" I asked even though I knew what it was.

"Six a.m.," Dean said. His hair was damp from his recent shower. He had changed into a pair of faded blue jeans and a grey, long-sleeved shirt.

I looked surprised, normally I get up a five or five thirty to take care of the horses so six would be sleeping in for me.

"You could have woke me earlier," I said and grabbed some clothes from my duffel bag.

Dean shrugged, "it's alright to sleep later once in a while Sam."

I shook my head and made my way to the bathroom. I closed the door and undressed, turned the water on and stepped inside the shower.

I didn't linger under the hot water, knowing Dean would want to get out of Joplin quickly. I think I showered, dried off and dressed in record time. I had chosen a pair of black jeans and a cardinal red long-sleeved shirt. I brushed my hair away from my face with my fingers and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Thought you were going to spend all day in there," Dean said with a slight smile. He was obviously feeling better, less tired than yesterday.

I brushed my teeth, shoved my toiletries and dirty clothes into my duffel bag, slipped on my sneakers and was ready to go when Dean was.

"We'll grab something on the road," Dean said as though I was always the one complaining about not having the time for breakfast.

"Sure. Are you sure you can make it?" I smiled as I did a quick survey of the room to make sure we had everything and stepped outside.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, pretending to be offended.

"I'm not the one with a bottomless pit for a stomach," I smiled as we walked to the Impala.

"I eat like a horse and you eat like a bird," my brother muttered as he opened the driver's side door and slipped behind the wheel.

"There's something wrong with this picture," Dean said once I was sitting in the passenger side.

"Just drive, Mr. Ed," I chuckled.

"Ha ha," Dean laughed sarcastically and pulled out of the parking lot.

We stopped before leaving Joplin and grabbed coffee and donuts (Dean's favourite fast-food breakfast for some reason).

My brother put a cassette in the player and I had to sit and listen as he sang along with Led Zeppelin.

I drank my coffee and made no comment. I didn't really care. At least it was better than silence.

Before I finished my drink I took my pills, ignoring the look Dean gave me as I swallowed them with the last of my coffee.

Five hours later, at roughly eleven thirty we arrived in Fort Smith, Arkansas. Dean and I grabbed a quick lunch and switched seats so I was driving.

I didn't mind though, I was grateful for the distraction.

As we had been driving I had let my mind wander but by doing so ended up entertaining memories of Hell. When I was tired or stressed the memories would seem to pop into my head unbidden and completely unwelcome.

I had stared out the passenger window, gritting my teeth and hoping Dean would not notice my expression. I had been desperate to think of something else, anything else. I had tried to think of Sarah instead, and then Faith and Aaron. That didn't last long though, the horrible memories intruded.

Now I just concentrated on driving, keeping my gaze on the asphalt unwinding seemingly endlessly before me. That seemed to work.

I drove late into the day and well into the night. Dean offered to take over for a while but I declined. I wouldn't be able to sleep if my brother had been the one driving anyway.

I stopped the Impala when I reached Shreveport, Louisiana. It was around nine thirty in the evening. Dean had fallen asleep, his head back and his mouth open slightly.

"Hey," I said and shook my brother's arm.

Dean jumped in his seat, blinked and wiped his face where he had drooled.

"You drove all day?" Dean peered out the windshield and blinked.

I shrugged, "I just really wanted to get here."

We found a place for the night- the Red River Motel.

The motel certainly lived up to its name. It was built of red sandstone, the roof had red ceramic clay tiles and the room was decorated in every shade of red imaginable.

When Dean and I stepped into our room my brother looked around and said, "so much for a relaxing atmosphere."

I chuckled.

Dean looked at me for a moment, "how much sleep have you had since we started this trip?"

"I don't know, a few hours," I muttered.

Dean's expression turned to one of worry.

"It's stress Dean, I can't do anything about it," I explained.

"Can't you take your pills?" Dean asked.

"I could take all of them at once and they wouldn't help me sleep!" I snapped.

"How about a Gravol or something like that?" Dean ignored my outburst and continued.

"I don't want to be drowsy, especially once we get to Lafayette," I said, a little more calmly now.

"Okay, okay," Dean said but I could see that he was still concerned.

We turned out the lights at eleven. Dean complained of being exhausted- I guess the stress was making him extra tired.

Dean had gone out to a convenience store a couple of minutes after we had brought our stuff into the room and bought a six-pack of beer.

Dean drank two but I had four- mostly because my brother thought I'd be able to sleep if I had alcohol in my system.

My brother was wrong though or maybe I just hadn't drunk enough but I was nowhere near sleeping when we called it a night.

I closed my eyes and prepared for a long sleepless night…

… I didn't know where I was. I looked around and saw only trees, but not any trees to be found in North America. They had wide leaves of vivid green, vines wrapped around their smooth trunks and moisture beaded on their fronds.

I was standing in ankle-deep leaf-litter. It was very humid. My clothes stuck to me with sweat and my hair was almost sopping wet.

"Where the hell am I?" I whispered aloud.

I froze when I heard someone or something crash through the jungle toward me.

I wasn't sure if I should hide or run.

Run! I thought as a bullet ricocheted off the truck of a tree right next to my head.

I didn't know what direction to go so I zigged and zagged, hoping to shake my pursuer.

"Winchester!" I heard a voice shout and I recognized its owner: Jonah Thompson!

I continued to run. There was no way I was going to stop when the hunter was obviously armed.

I ran, not looking where I was going when I hit a low-hanging tree branch.

My feet went out from under me and I landed hard on my back, my breath knocked from my chest. I could hear the sound of Jonah's boots pounding on the jungle floor, the chirrup of insects, the peep-peep-peep of frogs and the tat-tat-tat of distant gunfire.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them again I could hear the drone of traffic: horns blaring, sirens roaring, tires squealing. I heard human voices.

I was staring up at skyscrapers towering against a cloudy sky.

I sat up and saw that I was in the middle of the sidewalk in a large, bustling city. People stepped around me, intent only on their own lives.

I stood and brushed my pants off. I raised a hand to my head but there was no indication that I'd ran into a tree.

"Sam?" I heard a female voice to see Sarah coming out of a store. She held the hand of a young girl around the age of maybe six or seven with long, dark brown wavy hair and dark blue eyes.

"Sarah!" I said and embraced my wife and daughter.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah asked.

"I missed you too much," I smiled but Sarah pulled away awkwardly.

"Why are you here?" Sarah asked again.

"I… can't I see my wife and daughter?" I asked, confused.

"Sam, we've been through this, we've already signed the papers-" Sarah said but I interrupted her.

"What papers?" I asked. People were stopping to stare at us now.

"The divorce papers, remember?" Sarah said. She unconsciously pulled Faith closer to her side.

"Divorce? What are you talking about?" I happened to look down and didn't see Sarah's wedding ring on her finger.

"Sarah, what's going on? Why are we getting a divorce?" I asked.

Sarah sighed, "Sam, please, we've been through this already a hundred times!"

"Please explain it to me again!" I demanded.

Sarah took her gaze away from me and looked around nervously.

"Sam, you're ill, you know that and I just couldn't handle it," Sarah said.

"No, Sarah, no," I argued.

"It's not bad Sarah, I have it under control," I protested.

"No you don't Sam, you don't!" Sarah exclaimed and tears sprang into her eyes.

What had happened? I wanted to know but was afraid to ask.

"Where's Aaron?" I asked instead.

Sarah glared at me.

"Don't act like you don't remember Sam!" Sarah said angrily.

"What-" I began but Sarah spoke again.

"He's dead, Sam. Aaron's dead because of you!" Sarah screamed, tears flowing down her face twisted with rage.

"No, no, that's not true!" I stammered and began backing up.

"Sam… Sam stop!" Sarah shouted and reached out as though to grab my hand.

I felt the impact as the taxi hit me- it felt like a truck slammed into me. I was flung backward, over the car and hit the pavement. For a moment there was pain and then I blacked out.

I opened my eyes to find myself in an unfamiliar house.

The interior looked expensive: hardwood floors, glass and crystal, plastic-covered furniture.

I heard voices and followed the sound. I walked through a pair of French doors into a large formal dining room.

There was dozens of people in the room, all dressed in black.

Confused and curious I walked over to an older woman and asked her where I was and what was going on.

The woman ignored me as though I was invisible.

I turned away in disgust and asked a young man the same question: I received the same response.

"Can't anybody here me?" I asked loudly but it was as if everyone was deaf.

I looked around, wondering why I was here when I heard a familiar, nasal voice.

"He was sick Sarah; there was nothing you could do. Maybe it was for the best," I heard Percy Upton simper and I walked through the crowd to where my wife was sitting in a dining room chair with that prick holding one of her hands.

Sarah was wearing black. Her hair was pulled up into a bun and her eyes were red-rimmed.

"I just feel like it was my fault," Sarah whispered.

"It wasn't your fault Sarah," Percy said and said he was going to get her something to drink.

I followed Upton and listened as he was stopped by one of his friends.

"The asshole had it coming, Kirk," Upton said with a barely-contained grin.

"Is it true about his son?" Kirk asked.

"Yeah, the son of a bitch got his kid killed," Upton said.

I paused.

Percy moved on and was stopped again, this time by a young woman.

"I heard what happened to his little boy, is it true?" she asked.

"Sarah told me herself- her husband killed the kid, accidentally, but still…" Upton said with a cruel glint in his eye.

I couldn't take anymore. I made my way back to Sarah.

"What happened Sarah? What happened to Aaron?" I asked, kneeling down and I touched her hand.

Sarah looked up, "Sam?"

"I'm here Sarah," I whispered.

Sarah shivered and wrapped her black shawl tighter around her shoulders.

Upton returned with a glass of water for Sarah.

"Drink this," Percy cooed, "you'll feel better."

I felt anger at Upton rise in my chest. I looked at the table spread with food- Jell-O salads and casseroles, etc.

I swiped at the pots and dishes, pushing some onto the floor. Women screamed and jumped out of the way. Upton's eyes went wide as he was splattered with green bean casserole.

He whipped around, trying to find the culprit even though I was standing in front of him.

"Sam?" Sarah stood and looked around, her expression partly guilty and frightened and partly hopeful.

I reached out and gave Upton a shove and he landed on the table- his face in a Waldorf salad.

I walked once more through the French doors and stood in the foyer of Upton's house, chest heaving with anger.

I heard the doors open as Sarah stepped out.

"Sam, are you here?" she asked.

I didn't turn around.

"You are here, aren't you?" she didn't sound angry.

What happened, Sarah? I asked silently.

"I'm so sorry Sam. I know it wasn't your fault… I just… I just couldn't be with you anymore because every time I looked at you I thought of… of… him," Sarah said through her tears.

The doors slammed open and I heard Upton speak.

"What the hell was that? Why are you saying his name? He killed your son, remember?" Upton snarled and I heard him hit Sarah.

I turned around.

Sarah had a hand against her cheek, "Percy…"

I stepped forward and with all the strength I could muster, grabbed Upton around the throat.

I wrapped my fingers around his chubby neck and squeezed.

Upton's eyes bugged out of his head and his face began to turn purple.

"Sam! Sam, no!" I could hear Sarah but I didn't stop, didn't want to stop.

"Sam!" I heard my brother's voice and released my grip on Upton. He flopped to the ground, choking and gasping for air.

I turned around and saw Dean holding a shotgun.

I heard the gun go off with its familiar BANG!

I woke with a start. What the hell was that? Stress, I told myself, I was way too stressed out. I looked over at my brother, sleeping in the next bed. He was lying on his back, one arm tucked under his pillow.

I stood and moved silently across the room toward the door. I slid my shoes on and stepped outside. I walked down the dimly lit sidewalk and around the corner to the vending machine.

I fished in the pocket of my jeans for my wallet and put some money into the slot and pushed the button.

The machine groaned and rumbled noisily but deposited a bottle of Mountain Dew in the drawer.

I opened the bottle and took a swig of the sweet soda. I leaned against the brick wall of the motel and ran a hand through my hair.

I was troubled by the nightmare. I wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to mean, if anything.

Don't overanalyze every dream your subconscious dredges up, I told myself It was just a dream, it meant nothing, just a collection of images and words and thoughts that had happened to come together as my mind tried to organize the day's events.

It had been creepy though, there was no denying that.

I drank some more of the soda and then walked back to the motel room.

I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. I couldn't stop thinking about Sarah saying that it was my fault Aaron was dead.

At five thirty I went to find Dean and I some coffee and breakfast. I knew my brother wouldn't wake up while I was gone this time, he would sleep all day if allowed to.

I drove around aimlessly for a little while, cruising the deserted streets before the early morning commuters came out of the woodwork.

I found a coffee and donut shop that had just turned on their OPEN sign and thought, what the Hell, if Dean's going to treat this like some kind of screwed up vacation than so will I.

I got us some coffee and a half dozen donuts. I knew Dean would probably want to get to Lafayette as soon as possible so I didn't take the scenic route back.

We spent the entire day driving to Lafayette. Dean insisted on driving this time, the last leg of our trip. I didn't argue.

While my brother's rock music blasted from the speakers I rested my head against the window pane and closed my eyes in an attempt to sleep.

It was early evening when Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the Monarch Motel.

I waited in the car while Dean went to the front desk and paid for a week. The room was decorated in royal colours- rich reds and gold and hunter green- it clashed terribly but whatever, I wasn't an interior decorating critic.

It was late and we were both tired but I suggested we go to the police station and at least get information on the missing people so we could do some research.

"Oh come on! Can't it wait until the morning?" Dean protested as he sat on one of the beds and pulled his boots off.

I practically glared at my brother, "there is no way I am sitting around in this room with you all night! What am I supposed to do, twiddle my thumbs?"

Dean paused and looked at me, one hand still on the toe of a boot, "why are you in such a rush to get this over with? Sure, it'll be great if there's nothing paranormal about these disappearances, its one less thing we have to worry about but we aren't going to be driving back to our homes anytime soon- we still have to stop Jonah."

I slumped down on the other bed. How could I have forgotten about Jonah Thompson so easily?

"Yeah," I muttered, "we need to stop Jonah."

I looked at my brother and saw the skeptical expression on his face, "I didn't just imagine him Dean!"

"I'm not saying you did," Dean hesitated.

"But," I said, I knew he wanted to continue, he didn't completely believe me.

"Maybe with the PTSD and the stress, I don't know, maybe you hallucinated or something, I mean, no one else seemed to notice him," Dean said.

"I wasn't seeing things, Dean, I know he was there!" I protested.

"How could I imagine him if I'd never even seen Jonah before?" I asked rhetorically.

Dean didn't answer but stopped trying to pull of his boots and instead put the one back on.

"Alright, we'll go down to the police station and get some the names and addresses of the missing people if that'll make you happy," Dean stood and stretched wearily.

"It will," I answered.

"Can we eat dinner first? I'm starving," Dean asked and he fished his car keys from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Fine," I muttered.

Dean grinned at the compromise.

Twenty minutes later we were sitting in a booth in some diner. The place was bright and packed with hungry people and generally cheery.

The restaurant itself was like any dozen Dean and I would have eaten at when we were hunters. Nothing about it was particularly memorable.

We ordered beer first thing and then looked over the menu. Dean figured out what he wanted almost immediately.

I wasn't very hungry so I took longer to choose.

When the waitress returned Dean ordered a cheeseburger (no surprise there) and I ordered the liver and onions.

My brother gulped down some beer and gave me an odd look.

"What?" I asked.

"Liver and onions? Really?" Dean asked.

I shrugged, "so?"

"I've never seen you eat anything like that before," Dean said.

"Sarah's made it a couple of times and I like it," I said and took a drink of beer so Dean wouldn't notice the look on my face. I was really missing Sarah and normally I wouldn't order something like that but I couldn't help it.

We ate in silence. Dean took his time and when he was finished his burger he ordered a slice of strawberry pie for dessert.

I knew that Dean would be a while so I ordered coffee.

An hour later Dean and I headed back to the motel, changed into suits and were headed to the station as a couple of Federal officers.

We walked inside the fluorescent-lit, bustling station with serious expressions plastered on our faces.

We were directed to the Lieutenant when we flashed our badges and stepped into the small office.

The Lieutenant was a slim woman with short-cropped strawberry-blonde hair and piercing green eyes. She looked surprised that the Feds were in Lafayette.

"Agents Auerbach and Carnie," Dean said and we showed the Lieutenant our fake FBI badges.

"Lieutenant Gloria Crabbe," she said and folded her arms.

"We're here to investigate the missing persons' case," I said.

"Which one?" the Lieutenant asked.

"The last ten," I answered.

The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow.

Before she could speak Dean cut in, "we think that there may be a latent pattern or connection between these latest missing persons."

"Alright," the Lieutenant said, "do you have authorization?"

Dean smiled, "do we have authorization?" He looked at me with an 'of course we have that' kind of look.

I pulled a business card with the name and phone number of Supervisory Special Agent Tom Petty on it. We knew she would phone the number on the card later and speak to Bobby, posing as SSA Tom Petty to confirm our involvement in the case.

The Lieutenant looked at the card for a moment and then, looking convinced said, "Alright. But I would like to be involved with this."

"Of course," I said. From past experience Dean and I knew that some local cops were reluctant if not downright antagonistic toward the Feds investigating a case- they felt as if the FBI was stealing their thunder, making them out to look like a bunch of half-wits who couldn't do their job.

The Lieutenant led us down to the basement level and through a maze of hallways. We stopped just before a meshed-in door and room, watched over by an attendant.

The attendant, a middle-aged, fat woman was watching The Young and The Restless and eating takeout curry.

The attendant buzzed the Lieutenant through and we followed. We walked past row upon row of shelves of cardboard boxes- all containing evidence.

We stopped at a large grey file cabinet and the Lieutenant produced a key and opened the drawer.

She pulled out ten file folders and showed us the papers inside.

"They're all different ages, genders and races," she said, "it just doesn't match a pattern."

"If there is anything, anything at all that connects these people, we'll find it," I said.

"Can we make photocopies?" Dean asked.

The Lieutenant nodded and we spent nearly an hour copying ever piece of paper in those folders.

"Don't worry Lieutenant Crabbe, we'll catch whatever did this," I said but she didn't seem to notice.

I caught Dean looking at me from the corner of his eye though.

We trudged upstairs and shook hands with the Lieutenant.

Before leaving, Dean took a card from his breast pocket, "if you can think of anything that might help."

Once we got into the Impala Dean spoke, "What was that Sam?"

"I know I slipped up but she didn't notice," I said. I knew Dean was going to say something.

"Don't worry Lieutenant Crabbe, we'll catch whatever did this," Dean said, mimicking my voice.

"Dean, c'mon, I haven't been hunting in three years. Three years is a long time," I said.

"I know Sam, it's the same with me, I know. But, God, you have to be careful- that one mistake could have blown it for us and the hunters Bobby's gonna call for this job," Dean chastised.

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice," I muttered.

Dean and I didn't speak to each other the rest of the drive back to the motel.

We got inside and Dean went straight to the bathroom, taking some clean clothes with him.

While my brother showered I called Bobby to update him on events.

"Hey Bobby," I said tiredly.

"What's wrong?" the old hunter immediately asked.

"Local cops let us in on the investigation pretty easily," I said and ran a hand through my hair.

"So? What's the problem then?" Bobby grumbled.

"I almost fucked it up," I said, "it was a slip of the tongue but it could have ended us right then and there."

Bobby grunted but made no comment.

"How're you feelin' Sam?" Bobby asked.

"Fine," I said, "I miss Sarah and Faith and Aaron of course but I'll survive."

"Uh huh, you just make sure you do," Bobby muttered and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'll call you when something comes up," I said.

"You do that- I don't wanna be driving down there to see if you and your brother are in trouble when all you had to do was pick up the phone," Bobby said and hung up.

When Dean was finished he stepped out of the bathroom and turned on the TV and flipped around the channels with a solemn expression on his face. I had spread all the files out on the little round table that sat in the corner while Dean was showering and had started to look over them. I stood when Dean came into the room and grabbed some clothes from my duffle and took my turn in the bathroom

I showered quickly and changed into some clean clothes. It was around eight o'clock in the evening but I called Sarah anyway. I just wanted to hear her voice.

The phone rang twice and she picked up:

"Sam?" She said.

"Sorry it's late," I apologized.

"No, no, it's fine," Sarah said and was it my imagination or was she distracted.

"We're in Lafayette," I said, "drove all day."

"That's good," Sarah said.

"Where are you?" I asked. I was lying on my back on one of the beds.

"Tanya's," Sarah answered.

"What'd you and Faith and Aaron do today?" I asked.

"Faith wanted to go back to the museum," Sarah said.

"She just loves that T-Rex skeleton," Sarah said happily.

I smiled. Only our daughter would fall in love with something like that.

"How are you doing Sam?" Sarah asked.

"I miss you three," I said, "I wish it wasn't like this."

"We'll be able to come home soon," Sarah said.

"Yeah," I said somewhat weakly.

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause. I didn't really know what to say to Sarah. I really didn't want to tell her that we hadn't seen hide nor hair of Jonah and that wasn't good- the bastard could be anywhere, waiting to strike.

"I'll call you tomorrow," I said.

"Alright," Sarah said, "I love you Sam."

"Love you too," I answered, "give Faith and Aaron my love." I knew our children would already be in bed.

Once again Sarah made sure to tell me how much she loved me and then hung up.

I laid my hand on my chest, cradling the cell phone while the background noise of the TV washed over me. I closed my eyes and within minutes I was asleep.

SPN

I listened to Sam talking to Sarah- the suspicion in his voice clearly audible. I knew it wasn't my brother's fault though, the PTSD caused paranoid thoughts and I was sure Sam wasn't aware of it. When he fell asleep I took a seat at the small table and pored over the files, learning all I could about the victims.

The more I read the more I realized that Crabbe was right: there seemed to be nothing whatsoever that could possible connect these people. They were all from different social classes, they didn't work with each other or even live near to one another, the children all went to different schools, etc.

I knew that human serial killers usually had a specific type of victim and they would rarely change their preference. That convinced me even more that we were not dealing with anything human.

All the victims, also, had disappeared within days of each other, which also made me suspicious.

"They all vanished from locked houses or apartments, in their bedrooms or wherever else they were sleeping, with no evidence of a struggle," I muttered aloud.

I decided to sleep on it and talk to Sam in the morning before going to interview the families, maybe my brother would have some idea of what could have kidnapped theses people now that we had more information.

I shuffled sleepily over to the bed and lay down. I yawned once and closed my eyes, asleep in seconds.


	18. Fear Of The Dark

I woke when bright sunlight shone across my face from a slit in the curtains. I sat up and saw that Sam was fast asleep, his cell phone still on his chest.

I smiled and decided I would wait to wake him up until I had come back with breakfast. I stood and stretched, smoothed the wrinkles from my clothes and shuffled to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair.

I got into the Impala and drove around trying to find the nearest place that served coffee and something that could resemble breakfast.

Within ten minutes I had grabbed two large black coffees and a couple of breakfast burrito things.

I slipped back inside the motel room and put the food down on the table. I pulled my boots off, stifled a yawn and walked over to my brother.

He looked tired; he already had dark circles beginning under his eyes. I knew he was stressed about this case and Jonah. I didn't blame him- I'd be more worried if he was calm about it. I shook Sam's shoulder and he woke quickly, as though he hadn't been sleeping at all, just had his eyes closed.

He sat up and his phone slid down onto his lap.

"How come you're awake before I am?" Sam asked and pushed his hair back from his forehead.

I shrugged and lied, "I wanted to look over the case files before going over to interview the families." I was anxious to get going and figure out what was going on so we could devote all our energy to Jonah.

"Still, you didn't have to let me sleep," Sam muttered. He stood and stretched, moved over to the table and picked up one of the coffee cups.

"Find anything we don't already know?" Sam asked and looked down at the files strewn all over the table's surface, completely obscuring it.

"Not really," I said and took a gulp of my own coffee. It was watery but at least it was hot and had caffeine in it.

"Hey, all the victims disappeared only days apart. Would a serial killer work that fast?" I really wanted to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that something supernatural was behind this before handing it over to another hunter.

I picked up a note I had made- just a list of the days the victims had disappeared on.

Sam read the list then paused for a moment, thinking. He drank some coffee and spoke.

"Normally serial killers don't go after victims this fast, they have a cooling-off period and only kill again once the need becomes too strong. They can wait for weeks or months or even years. The only reason a serial killer would act like this is if they're having a breakdown," Sam said.

I nodded, "you watch too many episodes of Criminal Minds."

Sam scowled, we both knew that was not how he had learned about serial killers but I couldn't help making the joke.

"So you don't think it's human?" I said, trying to get confirmation.

"No, it's not likely," Sam said and sipped some more coffee.

"Okay," I sighed and sat on the end of my bed, bringing one of the foil-wrapped burritos with me.

"Hungry?" I asked, gesturing to the other burrito on the table.

"Not right now. You have it," Sam said, set his coffee down, grabbed his neatly folded suit from the drawer where he had stashed it last night and made his way to the bathroom.

After I had taken a shower and changed into my own suit Sam gathered up the files and slipped them under his arm.

It was just about ten thirty in the morning. Yeah, it was early but we had to interview ten families and we wanted to get that done today.

Just before leaving Sam grabbed his coffee and we stepped outside.

We left the parking lot and with my brother looking at a city map, made our way to the home of the first victim- Mr. Stan Gallagher.

Stan Gallagher lived in an apartment building and had been reported missing when his grand-daughter had come to visit him and he wasn't home so there was really no way of telling just how long he'd been missing.

Sam and I parked in front of the red-brick apartment building and walked into the dingy lobby.

There were cracked beige tiles on the floors, a dirty floor mat and stained walls of light green striped wallpaper.

I took my badge from my pocket and showed it to the receptionist.

"FBI?" the pimply teenage girl asked.

"Yes, we're here to take a look at Mr. Stan Gallagher's apartment," I said.

The girl sucked on her lower lip for a moment and the said, "I'll have to ask Mrs. Butts."

I raised an eyebrow.

The girl explained, "She's the landlady."

We waited while the girl phoned Mrs. Butts and explained that two FBI agents were here to look around the dead guy's place. Yeah, that's what she said. Verbatim.

"How do you know he's dead?" Sam asked when the girl put the phone down.

"Oh, well, he was old, you see. He had one of those oxygen tanks and he didn't leave his apartment at all. If anyone kidnapped him or whatever, I don't think he'd live very long," the girl said matter-of-factly.

"Agents?" a raspy voice said and Sam and I turned around and saw an extremely short, ugly woman.

"Mrs. Butts," I said.

"Yeah, yeah, can we get this over with?" she said and waddled toward the elevators.

Sam and I followed. I gave my brother a look and he rolled his eyes and then gave me a warning glare that said 'remember Dean, we're Federal officers.'

The small elevator smelled of cigarettes and strong floral perfume that seemed to have been absorbed into the wood paneling and worn grey carpet.

Mrs. Butts was wearing an unflattering, purple Mumu with faded pink bunny slippers on her feet. She had dyed blond hair in numerous rollers.

She breathed heavily, a long-time smoker. When the elevator reached the right floor I was grateful to get out.

We walked down a long hallway of scuffed linoleum tiles and peeling brown wallpaper.

Mrs. Butts stopped at a dark green door that had a line of Crime Scene tape across it and pulled out a key. She unlocked the door and Sam and I ducked under the tape and entered the apartment.

The police had moved nothing. Everything was exactly as it had been when Mr. Gallagher's grand-daughter had come over.

There were tons of newspapers and magazines everywhere. The television was still on- a Discovery Channel documentary on whales was playing.

There was a couch draped in a blanket. It was the only piece of furniture in the living room. An oxygen tank and its holder sat beside the couch.

Mrs. Butts had followed us inside and Sam turned to her, "did Mr. Gallagher sleep here?"

"How should I know?" she rasped, no help at all.

I peered quickly into the kitchen but figured there was nothing of use there so I stepped into the tiny bedroom just off the living room.

The bed was neatly made, almost with a hospital-like precision.

Sam walked into the room, "it's obvious he didn't spend a lot of time in here."

"Hey, look at these bed corners," I pointed.

"Yeah, it's called mitre. Nurses do that," Sam said.

"Do you think he had a nurse come in or could his grand-daughter do those?" I asked.

"It said nothing about a nurse in the file. Why does it matter how his bed was made?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "just looks like he didn't use the bed much."

Sam and I returned to the living room and looked around. Just as the file said there was no sign that Mr. Gallagher was taken against his will.

Sam looked around and noticed a night-light, nothing too big or anything, giving off a diffuse orange light.

"The old man had a little trouble finding his way to the bathroom at night," I said, following my brother's line of sight.

"Why not turn on the lamp?" Sam asked rhetorically. There was a lamp on an end table right beside the couch.

"I don't know, too difficult? If he's just woken up he doesn't want to be fumbling around for the switch when he can just have a little light all the time. No need to worry," I said.

"Maybe," Sam muttered.

I shook my head.

Sam now went over to the couch itself and looked closely at the tartan flannel blanket covering it.

"What are you looking at?" I asked.

Sam raised a hand and brushed something off the blanket and onto the ground.

"Crumbs? Are you cleaning up after the man now?" I asked, forgetting that Mrs. Butts was still within hearing distance and we were supposed to be FBI.

"No Agent Auerbach, I think there's something on the blanket," Sam said, emphasizing my name to remind me of my role.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It looks like dust or something," Sam said.

"Dust?" I asked. So the man didn't get around to cleaning his apartment often, so what?

"Do you have security cameras Mrs. Butts?" Sam asked.

"No, don't believe in 'em," Mrs. Butts rasped. If there had been cameras then perhaps we could have caught a glimpse of the kidnapper.

Sam straightened.

"Thank you Mrs. Butts," he said and began walking toward the door.

"That's it?" Mrs. Butts asked, her voice raspier with shock.

"That's it?" I echoed.

"Agent Auerbach and I have seen all we need to here," Sam said pointedly.

I was going to speak but since Sam had decided to take the wheel I didn't say anything and supposed I would go along for the ride.

When we left the apartment building I spoke.

"What the Hell was all that about?" I asked.

"What?" Sam asked, "we had all the information we could get from that place."

"But what was with the night-light and the dusty old blanket?" I asked.

"Those didn't look like evidence of anything other than the fact that some old man lived there," I continued.

"I'm not sure. I think we need to see more bedrooms before I can figure this out," Sam said.

"Okay, lead the way," I said and we drove the next victim's home.

The house was a nice craftsman style place set a little away from the road.

The second victim was fourteen year old Dustan DeWitt.

Sam and I stepped onto the front porch and I knocked on the door.

Seconds later the door was opened by a sad looking woman.

"Mrs. DeWitt?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered and looked at us somewhat fearfully.

"I'm Agent Carnie and this is Agent Auerbach with the FBI. We'd like to talk to you about Dustan if that would be alright with you," Sam said, his face the perfect solemn expression.

Mrs. DeWitt looked at our badges for a moment and then stepped aside to let us in.

"Please come in Agents," she said softly.

The house was nice. Nothing fancy but it had a comfortable, homey feel that was better than expensive pieces of furniture or pictures, etc.

It was obvious a young boy lived here. There were soccer cleats and a baseball bat leaning against the foyer wall.

Mrs. DeWitt led us into the kitchen.

The table was glass-topped with grey chairs that didn't quite match. The countertops were faux granite and the cupboards were a pale peach colour. The floor was tile-patterned linoleum.

Mrs. DeWitt motioned nervously for us to take a seat.

"Can I offer you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No thank you," Sam said.

Mrs. DeWitt, after trying to decide if she wanted anything herself, sat down.

"Can you tell us about Dustan?" Sam asked gently.

Mrs. DeWitt smiled sadly.

"He was the best son… I know everyone must think about their children, that but he really was. He was so polite to everyone and he'd make me laugh," she said.

"He loved sports: soccer and baseball were his favourites. He wanted to play both professionally," Mrs. DeWitt chuckled softly at the thought.

"Dustan was so excited about high school in September," she said and began to wring her hands.

"Mrs. DeWitt, I know this is going to be difficult but can you tell us about the night Dustan disappeared?" Sam asked.

"It was, ah, a Monday, yes; it was Monday because Dustan always had soccer practice that day. We got home at seven and had dinner- hamburgers- his favourite and then he went to Ian's house- Ian's his friend. They've known each other since Kindergarten…. Then he came home around eight thirty and we watched a movie together.

He went to bed around ten o'clock. I stood in the doorway, said 'goodnight' and then went back downstairs. I didn't hear anything. I was watching the TV and I didn't hear Dustan cry out or anything…" Mrs. DeWitt began to cry.

Sam reached out and took her hand in a comforting way.

"It wasn't your fault, Mrs. DeWitt," Sam reassured her.

"I just feel like I've failed him," she sniffled and wiped her face.

"Is it just the two of you?" I asked carefully.

"My ex-husband lives in Baton Rouge. He sees Dustan one a month," Mrs. DeWitt said.

"Does he have a key?" I ventured. Maybe the ex didn't like having visitation rights only and decided to take it upon himself to take full custody of Dustan.

"No and he has an alibi for that night," Mrs. DeWitt said.

"Had Dustan been behaving differently before he disappeared?" Sam asked.

I looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?" Mrs. DeWitt asked.

"Did your son sleep with a night-light?" Sam asked.

"No, not since he was little," Mrs. DeWitt answered.

"Did he ask for one recently?" Sam asked.

Mrs. DeWitt paused.

"How did you know?"

"One of the other missing persons had a night-light in his apartment," Sam explained.

"But what does that have to do with Dustan?" Mrs. DeWitt asked.

"We're trying to find a connection between the missing people," Sam said.

"Do you think that whoever took Dustan kidnapped those other people?" Mrs. DeWitt asked.

"We're not sure, that's what we're trying to figure out," I spoke up before Sam had a chance to.

"May we see Dustan's room?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Mrs. DeWitt led us upstairs and down a carpeted hall to Dustan's bedroom.

The room was painted blue. The carpet a neutral beige colour was strewn with comic books and sports paraphernalia. A couple books sat forlornly on the shelves next to soccer and baseball trophies.

There was a bunk bed with a blue blanket that looked ready for a young boy to jump into it for the night.

Sam went over to the window. He made sure that it was closed and locked.

I looked around the room and spotted the nightlight, near the head of the bed.

"Did you ask why Dustan wanted the light?" I asked as Sam took a look at the sheets.

"He wouldn't say," Mrs. DeWitt said, "he just told me not to say anything to his friends because they'd think he was a baby."

I thought: What makes a fourteen year old boy afraid of the dark? And an old man for that matter, if Sam was right?

"Agent Auerbach, come over here," Sam said. He had pulled the top blanket and sheet down so he could see the fitted sheet only.

The sheet was dark blue. Easily visible was a dusting of miniscule granules.

"What is that?" I asked aloud.

Mrs. DeWitt peered over our shoulders.

"It's just sand, Dustan would get it everywhere, even after showering. It's from the field," she explained.

Sam and I straightened.

We went back downstairs, thanked Mrs. DeWitt for her time and gave her a card in case she remembered anything else.

The rest of the day was spent interviewing the other families. We didn't get all that far but we did make a connection.

All the victims had either night-lights or insisted a light of some sort be left on days before they had disappeared.

In all the other houses Sam and I had spotted that sandy-dusty stuff either in the beds or nearby.

All the houses had been locked from the inside, making it damn near impossible for someone to break in with no evidence left behind.

"That still doesn't answer the big question: what is it?" I said in exasperation.

Sam and I were back in the motel room.

I was lying on my back on the bed and Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop out.

"Hold on Dean, I'm trying to connect the dots," my brother muttered.

"What dots? There's only two! How do you make the big picture with two dots?" I said.

"Just bear with me," Sam said.

While Sam typed madly on his computer I went through all the victims over and over in my head: First there was seventy-year-old Stan Gallagher, then Dustan DeWitt, then Myrtle Cummings who was seventy-five, then twenty-seven year old Thom Zimmerman, next was Shelly Wilson, just seven; eighty-two year old Paul Simpson, Amanda Lemke who had just turned twenty-five, twenty-eight year old Albert Yee and then finally twelve year old Tyler Pellegrino and nine year old Justine Marcos were reported missing on the same day.

Ten missing people who feared the dark just days before they disappeared- it made no sense to me.

Later we took a break and went and had dinner. Sam hadn't eaten anything at all during the day and I was worried about him.

We went to that little diner we had gone to the first night we had arrived here and again I ordered a cheeseburger.

"What are you thinking this thing is?" I asked after taking a bite of burger.

"I don't think it's a ghost or even a demon," Sam said.

"Maybe a rawhead?" I asked.

Sam shook his head, "you know they're like strigas, they only go after children."

Right. I knew that but we were running out of things that could be kidnapping people in the dead of night.

"What about a demon?" I asked.

Sam shook his head again, "there wasn't any sulfur at the crime scenes, Dean, you know that."

"Yeah," I grumbled and munched my burger while racking my brains trying to figure out what this could be.

When we returned to the motel Sam called Sarah again. While my brother talked to his wife, I called Bobby.

"Hey," I said and the old hunter grunted a greeting.

"So we're pretty sure that there is something not human taking these people," I said.

"Yeah, do you know what it is?" Bobby asked.

"Well, not exactly," I said and rubbed a hand over my face.

"It's really weird Bobby," I said, "I can't even begin to try and figure this one out."

"What'd you find?" Bobby asked, "maybe I can help."

"Okay, well, all the victims were kidnapped at night, right? From locked houses. I mean, they were sealed, not even a window open. Their families heard nothing either so whatever did this was quick and quiet about it. Anyway, Sam found out that all the victims, prior to their disappearances had been sleeping with some form of light on at night- they were afraid of the dark, Bobby.

The families said that many of the victims had no problem with sleeping at night until days before they disappeared. The only person who had a previous fear of the dark was the seven-year old girl, Shelly Wilson," I paused and waited for Bobby to speak.

"So whatever this is, it's known to its victims before it kidnaps them," Bobby mused.

"What would cause a sudden acute fear of the dark though?" I asked. Of course there were many things that would cause a person to fear the dark but not so suddenly- it was like night and day with these people (pardon the pun), I mean, one day they were fine and the next they refused to sleep without a night-light.

"Anything else?" Bobby asked.

"There was this dust, I guess, near where the victims slept or in their sheets," I said.

"Sam and I couldn't figure it out," I continued.

"Not sulfur?" the old hunter asked.

"Not sulfur. It was, pale, kind of white and it didn't smell at all," I said.

"Hm, well, let me look into some things and I'll get back to you," Bobby said. I knew he'd probably stay up all night going through all his books looking for something that might help us.

"Thanks Bobby," I said and before I could hang up Bobby spoke again.

"Any word on Jonah yet?"

"None. It's like he's disappeared… or waiting," I said uncomfortably. I did not want the old crazed hunter to attack when we were least expecting it, when Sam and I had our guard down.

"Just figure out what this is and then you and your brother can devote all your energy to stopping Jonah," Bobby said and hung up.

When Sam got off the phone with Sarah I told him what Bobby had said.

"It's not much but he'll see if he can match the M.O. to any beastie out there," I said.

"That's good," Sam said.

"Right now we need all the help we can get it seems," he continued, somewhat dejectedly.

"How's Sarah and the kids?" I changed the subject.

"Great, Faith really likes Albany," Sam said, "I'm worried she's going to ask Sarah if we can move there."

Sam chuckled slightly.

"You know, maybe it wouldn't be bad to move to the city," I ventured.

Sarah thought that living in Montana put less stress on Sam, and maybe it did, but he couldn't hide out in the prairies forever.

"I mean, you wouldn't have to drive as far to work and you'd be able to see your family more often," I said.

Sam shrugged, "I don't know Dean. I like Petite. I like Montana and I don't think Sarah really wants to go back to New York."

"She left all her friends back there, remember?" I said, maybe he'd move for Sarah if he saw she missed her friends.

"I wasn't the one who forced her to move in the first place Dean!" Sam said, angrily.

"I know that," I said defensively.

"Then why are you trying to make this sound like it's my fault?" Sam demanded.

"I'm not saying it's your fault. Of course it's not; you were in a coma when Sarah moved. I'm just saying maybe it's time for you to stop hiding out in small-town Montana and live in a goddamned city like a normal person!" I was getting angry now. I couldn't understand why Sam insisted on shying away from what I saw as human contact, I mean, he always stayed in Petite except for his work and it seemed to me he didn't want to go forward. He seemed to want to stay where he was.

"I can't Dean. I can't," Sam said, still sounding angry but also sad at the same time.

"What do you mean?" I wanted to know, still pissed at him.

"I can't move Dean. I can't move forward, I can't get over it!" Sam exclaimed, all sadness now.

"It's been two years Sam! Two years… almost three! You have to get over it!" I knew I was being completely uncompromising.

"You don't understand," Sam muttered softly.

"Oh I understand, I understand that you don't want to move on, you want everyone to feel sorry for you? You want to wallow in self pity for the rest of your life!" I said loudly.

Sam said nothing.

I raised a hand and looked away from him. Why was he doing this? Why didn't he just suck it up and get on with his life?

I had asked Death to save Sam so he'd have a life, so he wouldn't remain stationary. Was Sam trying to waste it?

I grumbled unintelligibly and left the room, grabbing the car keys on my way out.

I needed a drink. Sam had been getting on my nerves a lot recently and it was pissing me off.

I cruised around until I found a bar and parked. Sam wouldn't miss me if I was gone for a couple of hours.


	19. The Small Hours

I was relieved when Dean stormed out. Once we start fighting we get nowhere. I was angry that Dean hadn't listened to me- it seemed like he never listened to me but always jumped to the worst conclusions before I could open my mouth to explain.

After the door slammed shut I sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. I was tired and stressed and neither of us needed to be at each other's throats right now.

I knew that Dean would be gone for a good couple of hours or more so I decided to make myself comfortable.

I went into the bathroom and got out of my suit and took a long, hot shower. After the half hour shower I changed into an old pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt.

I grabbed my laptop from my duffel, sat down at the table and pulled up the search engine to see if I would have any luck figuring out what had kidnapped those people.

My thoughts though, were not on the case. I was thinking about Sarah and Faith and Aaron. Sarah seemed to really be enjoying seeing her old friends again and Faith loved Central Park and the museum.

Maybe Dean's right and it is time for you to move to the city, I thought.

I wondered if I told Sarah would she agree. I thought back to the conversation with Lisa and Dean and their proposal for us to move to Indiana which Sarah had politely refused.

It's because of you, you know, I thought. Sarah is concerned about you. Sarah won't move because she thinks the city's too stressful for you, I continued to think.

I was the one thing standing between Sarah and a life in the city.

I went over the pros and cons of living in the city in my head: Sarah would be able to see her friends more often (especially if we moved to New York City or Albany), I wouldn't have to drive as far to work and I'd get to spend time with my family, Dean and Lisa would be happy if we moved to Indiana. Faith and Aaron wouldn't have an hour and forty minute bus ride just to go to school in Butte, as it looked like they would now if we stayed in Montana.

The problem was I would need to find a job; probably a completely new one in a different sector and I didn't have a great resume.

I sighed; I didn't know what Dean wanted me to do. I had told him I couldn't forget what had happened to me in Hell and I probably never would and the Post-Traumatic Stress wasn't helping matters either. I guess Dean thought it would only be temporary but I wasn't surprised at all that the PTSD appeared permanent. I was doing all I could to keep the memories at bay, I was taking the medication daily- I didn't know what more I could do to help myself other than to check into the nearest Hotel California.

I pulled up another tab on the search engine and typed in 'Real Estate in Indiana' and began browsing some houses for sale in some of the cities close to Cicero: Sheridan, Westfield, Carmel, and Noblesville.

After looking at dozens and dozens of houses my eyes began to itch with fatigue and I closed my laptop, crossed my arms over it and laid my head down on my arms.

I'll only sleep for a half an hour or so and then I'll get back to research, I thought as my eyelids closed and I was asleep within seconds…

I woke with a start when I heard the door open. I dove across the room to my duffel bag and grabbed a gun, pointing it directly at the door.

I lowered the weapon when Dean stepped inside. He saw the gun and held his hands up like a criminal.

"You going to shoot me?' He asked, his words slightly slurred from alcohol.

"You scared the shit out of me Dean," I said and set the gun on the bed.

"What time is it?" I asked.

Dean peered down at his watch and didn't speak for a couple of seconds, "almost midnight."

"What!" I exclaimed. I had slept a lot longer than planned.

"Time just flies when your angry doesn't it Sam?" Dean asked and stepped inside, closing the door after himself.

"Dean, you're drunk," I said. I had rarely seen my brother plastered and right now it was not a good thing.

My brother grinned at me and sat down on his bed.

"C'mon Dean, you're better than this. We're in the middle of a case and we have a lunatic hunter on our trail and you go get yourself wasted," I said, trying to hide the anger in my voice. Dean knew better than to do something like this.

"Oh C'mon Sammy, you're just too serious all the time. It wouldn't hurt to live a little, would it?" Dean said and waved one hand at me limply.

I hoped that my brother had drunk enough so that he'd pass out soon and I wouldn't have to sit and listen to him.

I opened my laptop and exited the real estate tab and looked back at the research I had attempted.

"You know what your problem is Sam," Dean said in a serious voice, "you internalize everything too much. You never talk to anyone and it eats away at you."

"Uh huh," I muttered, not paying much attention to what my brother was saying or looking at him.

"Yeah, yeah. That's it, if you'd talked to someone it'd all be okay," Dean mumbled, more to himself than me I think.

"We already talked about it Dean," I said, still riveted to the computer screen.

"No, Sam, we didn't, you talked and I listened," Dean said.

I looked up at my brother from over the laptop, "well, what do you want to do?"

"Talking about it once didn't help and all those pills you're popping aren't helping," Dean said.

"Than what do you propose?" I asked. I knew he wasn't sober but I was still annoyed.

"You need help Sammy boy, like, professional help," Dean said and grinned at me.

"Professional help?" I asked.

"You mean a therapist or something?" I continued when Dean didn't answer immediately.

"No, no, I mean professional help. I mean a hospital," Dean said and giggled.

I stared at my brother, taken aback.

"What?" I asked.

"You heard me," Dean said, staring at me with his hazel eyes filled with a strange expression. Dean suddenly seemed to sober up and turned deadly serious.

"You need to go to a hospital Sam, a mental hospital."

I opened my mouth. I couldn't believe Dean would say those things. Maybe Dean wasn't as drunk as I thought he was. Or maybe he was too drunk.

"You know it's true Sam, don't look at me like that," Dean said.

"No Dean, no," I whispered.

"Your sick Sam, you have been ever since you came back from Hell and I can't stand by any longer and watch," Dean said and stood.

"Why Dean?" I asked.

"I can't lie anymore Sam," Dean said.

I shook my head, "please say this is a joke."

"I'm not joking Sam, I've never been more serious in my life."

"What are you going to do?" I asked and began backing up from my brother although he had not moved at all except to stand.

"I am going to take you to a hospital Sam," Dean said.

"No," I said and ran into the wall.

"Yes, I already spoke to Bobby and he found a good one, they'll help you Sam," Dean said.

"I can't Dean! I can't do it! What about Sarah and Aaron and Faith?" I asked, now I raised my hands to defend myself.

"Sarah will understand. It's okay Sam, you'll get to see them," Dean said and began to advance toward me.

I shook my head and was shocked to feel tears well up in my eyes.

"Dean, I'm your brother, doesn't that mean anything?" I attempted.

"Dad said I had to save you and this is the only way I know how," Dean said and kept walking toward me slowly as though I might bolt if he moved too quickly.

"He didn't mean this Dean. You know he didn't," I said.

"Sam, I don't want to hurt you but I will if you don't co-operate," Dean warned.

There was no way I was going to go quietly, Dean or no, I wouldn't do it.

"You're not Dean, you're not my brother, he'd never do this to me," I said. Once, in the months before I had killed the Devil, Dean had promised he would do everything he could not to send me to a hospital. I believed him and I didn't doubt that his promise still held, so this could not be Dean, he would never break such a promise.

Dean shook his head, "I am your brother Sam, it's me."

"But you promised Dean," I whispered.

"Sometimes promises are made to be broken Sammy," Dean said

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Dean ran at me and tackled me to the ground. I managed to push him off and made a dash for the door.

I had the door open when I felt Dean grab me in a football tackle and we both fell to the floor again.

"I'm trying to help you!" Dean gasped as I struggled to get away again.

I rolled over onto my back and shoved my knee into Dean's abdomen. He gasped but didn't let go.

Dean raised a fist and punched me in the face, once, twice, three times.

"Don't do this to yourself Sam," Dean said.

I raised my head and butted my forehead into his. I was shocked at the pain and recoiled. Dean's hand went up to his forehead, wiping blood away from a cut on his eyebrow.

My brother grabbed my throat, choking me and slammed my head down onto the floor.

Pain exploded in the back of my head and bright lights flashed before my eyes.

I felt my limbs go limp and Dean slammed my head down again and I blacked out.

I woke slowly. My entire head ached and I groaned miserably. I looked around and realized I was lying on a bed in a whitewashed, hospital room.

I sat up and groaned again as I almost blacked out at the sudden movement. I looked at my clothes and saw that my jeans and t-shirt were gone, replaced with plain hospital pajamas.

I blinked and glanced around the room. There was a tiny, chicken wired window that allowed some sunlight to come through. The window was too high up to see anything outside.

How long have I been here? I thought.

I stood shakily and walked to the door, opened it and peered out.

I saw an old woman wearing hospital clothes similar to mine and a large orderly but other than those two people I was alone.

I paused, unsure of what to do. I didn't want to go out into the hall but I wanted to know how long I had been in this place.

Before I could make a decision I heard footsteps coming down the hall and turned to see a middle-aged doctor walking right toward me.

"How are you feeling today, Sam?" the doctor asked as she stopped before me.

"My head hurts," I answered.

The doc nodded knowingly, "it's just a side-effect of the medication. It should pass in a few days."

Oh, I thought, so I was here long enough to have the effects of some medicine to surface.

"Uh, where am I?" I asked.

"The Hudson Psychiatric Hospital in Anderson, Indiana," the doctor answered as though she was asked this question daily.

"Are you alright Sam? You look a little lost?" the doctor asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"How long have I been here?" I asked. My heartbeat sped up with nervous anticipation.

"Two years," the doctor said and I just gaped.

Two years! I leaned against the wall to keep myself standing.

"Sam? Sam, are you alright?" the doctor asked, concern clear on her face.

I slid down the wall and sat with my knees against my chest.

I stared at the tile floor without really seeing it.

"Sam? Sam?" I could hear the doctor saying my name over and over again but I didn't respond.

"This can't be happening," I whispered.

"This is wrong," I said, looking up at the doctor.

"What's wrong Sam?" she asked and crouched down to be eye-level with me.

"Two years can't have passed! I don't remember them! How could they have happened if I can't remember?" I asked.

"Sam, it's the treatment, it causes memory loss," the doctor said.

"How could Dean do this to me?" I asked.

"Sam, calm down," the doctor said. I saw the orderly I had seen previously was looming behind the doctor, ready if needed.

"I can't stay here," I said to the doctor.

"Sam, you need to get better," she said.

"How could Dean do this to me? After what happened in Oklahoma? Why would he do this to me?" I kept asking myself aloud.

The doctor looked on, her expression worried.

"I want to go home," I said forcefully, "I want to see Sarah and Faith and Aaron, I want-" I paused when I realized that by now Faith would be four years old and Aaron would be two.

"It's alright Sam, you will see them," the doctor said in a happy voice.

I looked at her.

"That's what I was coming to tell you, they're coming to visit you today," the doctor said as if announcing I had just won the lottery.

Somehow the thought of my wife and children seeing me like this was not comforting.

"Okay," I said dully.

The doctor smiled and turned to leave.

"I'll see you later for our appointment then," she said and walked down the hall, spoke briefly to the old woman and then continued until she turned a corner and was out of sight.

I remained sitting where I was for an unknown amount of time. I didn't have the strength to get up. I stared at the wall across from me and ignored the other patients.

After a while I stood and walked around aimlessly, just to get the feeling back into my legs again.

I ventured out onto the grounds. The place was nice I guess, for a mental hospital. They had flower beds and trees and picnic benches.

I sat down at one of the benches and tried to enjoy the bright sunshine that slanted through the tree branches.

I shivered as though cold even though it was fairly warm outside and thought it must be a side-effect of whatever medication the doctor had me on.

"Sam?" I heard my name and looked up… and saw Sarah with Faith and Aaron holding each of her hands.

"Sarah!" I exclaimed and stood.

"Daddy!" Faith ran over to me and I picked her up in a hug, aware that somewhere nearby there was probably an orderly watching to make sure I didn't freak-out or something.

Aaron was slower with his greeting. He had his thumb stuck in his mouth and he stared up at me with dark brown eyes.

I set Faith back down and crouched down and held my arms out to my son.

"Look how big you are!" I said and hugged Aaron. The little boy sagely patted my shoulder and looked up at his mother.

"It's great to see you Sarah," I said and wrapped both arms around her for a strong hug.

When we separated I saw that Sarah had tears in her eyes.

She chuckled and wiped her face, "I told myself I wouldn't do this this time."

We sat down, Faith sat right beside me and Aaron sat on Sarah's lap.

"Daddy," Faith said and looked at me with her dark blue eyes sparkling.

"Yes," I said and smiled.

"I'm reading to Aaron like I promised I would," she said, looking very proud of herself.

"That's great, Sweetheart, what book are you reading?" I asked. I was surprised at how well spoken Faith was already.

"Treasure Island," Faith said.

"I can't do it as well as you, though," she continued, a little disappointed.

"I'm sure Aaron loves it," I said.

I felt bad that I had missed out on my children's lives, Aaron's especially since he only would have known me to be in here. That must be confusing for him.

I listened as Sarah spoke and found out she had moved to Indianapolis shortly after Dean had sent me here and she was now was a journalist at a local newspaper.

"My fallback career," Sarah said with a shrug.

I felt Faith tug at my sleeve, "Daddy, when are you coming home?"

I paused; I didn't know what to say.

"When he's all better, Faith, the doctors are trying really hard to make Daddy all better," Sarah said and Faith looked only slightly placated. That ruse probably would wear out soon.

"How are you doing Sarah?" I asked. This must be difficult for her to see me in here.

Sarah smiled sadly, "I take it day by day."

I frowned. My head still ached terribly. I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes for a second.

"Are you alright?" I heard Sarah ask.

I opened my eyes, "yeah, just a headache."

Sarah and the kids stayed for probably ten more minutes than Aaron began to fidget and fuss.

"Wanna go! Wanna go!" he cried and squirmed on Sarah's lap.

Sarah looked at me apologetically. I really didn't want them to go but I had no choice.

"We'll come by next week," Sarah said and we all stood.

Faith looked up at me and held her arms out for a hug, "bye Daddy," she whispered and pecked my cheek.

Aaron, still with his thumb in his mouth, gave me another pat on the shoulder.

Sarah and I hugged and kissed passionately.

I stayed where I was and watched them leave.

I remained outside for a while until I saw the doctor walking across the lawn toward me. I guessed it was time for our appointment.

We went back inside and the doctor led the way to her office- just off the main entrance. The office was large, with a bookcase along one wall and the other three decorated with the doc's diplomas and certificates and a print of a view of the ocean from a sandy beach.

I sat down across the desk from the doctor and didn't speak.

"We have an hour Sam, so we can talk if you want to but we could just sit if you'd rather do that," the doctor said in an accommodating voice.

I remained silent. I noticed that the books on the shelves were psychology, mostly, with a few anatomy, sociology, and philosophy texts thrown in. I also noticed the Diagnostic and Statistical Manuel of Mental Disorders was sitting right within easy reach of the doctor.

"Hey, Nietzsche," I said out loud.

"You like Friedrich Nietzsche?" the doctor asked.

"Yeah, I had to read Thus Spoke Zarathustra in college," I said without looking at the doctor.

The doctor nodded. I read one of the certificates on the wall behind her and found out her name was Agnes Sutcliff.

"What did Dean say was wrong with me?" I asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Sutcliff asked.

"What mental illness did Dean say I had to get me locked up here?" I repeated.

"You are exhibiting signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder but also paranoid schizophrenia," Dr. Sutcliff answered.

The doctor and I regarded one another for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"What do you want to talk about?" she spoke as though I was a child, or incapable of understanding complex sentences.

"Why are you talking like that?" I snapped.

"Like what, Sam?" the doctor asked, shocked.

"Talking to me like I'm three years old," I said.

"Sam, you're confused right now-"

"I'm not crazy, I'm fine. I want to go home," I demanded.

"I think I'm the one who makes the decision as to whether you can leave or not," the doctor said, no longer using her patronizing tone.

"Fine, give me the test or whatever and I'll pass it," I said.

"Sam, you know that there is more to a full recovery of mental health than taking a simple test," Sutcliff said.

"My own son looks at me like I'm a stranger! He doesn't even know me. How is that right?" I asked.

"Sam, calm down," the doctor said.

"Sarah was crying, and from what I gather she does that whenever she sees me. In here. Like this," I said.

"That's why we're trying to help you: so you can go back and be with your family," Sutcliff said in a hopeful voice.

"You don't really believe that do you?" I asked.

"I'm not stupid, I know that if you have your way I'm never going to leave," I said fiercely. I could feel anger rising in my chest.

"Sam, please, you need to calm down," the doctor pleaded. I hadn't moved or threatened her in any way.

"I'm living in a fucking human-sized roach motel! You go in but you never go out!" I said in a raised voice.

I stood and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" the doctor asked.

"Sorry, Doctor, but I'm cutting this appointment short," I said and walked out into the hallway, slamming the door behind me.

I wandered down the maze of halls, peering at each door until I found my room. The door was still open from earlier and I closed it gently when I stepped inside.

I looked around the tiny room that bore no signs that anyone lived in it but for the rumpled sheets on the bed. I felt tears well up in my eyes and did nothing to stop them as they overflowed and ran down my face.

I looked up when I heard the door open and was shocked to see Dean peer into the room.

"Dr. Sutcliff said you might be in here," my brother said and stepped inside.

I was lying on my back on the bed, just staring up at the ceiling.

"Why are you here Dean?" I asked.

"Can't I come and see my younger brother?" Dean asked.

I turned my head and glared at him.

"I wouldn't be in here if it wasn't for you," I practically growled.

"C'mon Sam, you do this every time I come over," Dean sighed.

Why not? I thought, this is your fault.

"How can you stand it Dean? Answer me that?" I asked.

"What, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"How can you stand to look at Sarah and know I'm in here, how can you stand to face Faith and Aaron when you've taken away their father. How dare you come in here and act like I'm on a fucking vacation or something?" I said, mostly rhetorically.

"Sam-"

"And don't call me Sammy!" I shouted.

Dean paused, "it's been hard on me too you know."

"Oh yeah? How? I'd love to hear it Dean?" I asked violently.

"Sam," Dean said. He wasn't going to answer my question.

"You know I'm never leaving, don't you?" I asked, calmly now.

"Yeah," Dean whispered.

I nodded. Dean knew what he was doing when he had me committed.

I looked at Dean and felt hate well up inside.

"I can imagine what life's going to be like for Faith and Aaron- going through school as the siblings whose father's in the loony-bin," I said.

I knew that the other kids at school would hear about Sarah Winchester's crazy husband up at Hudson and it would come back to Faith and Aaron. Faith, no doubt, would defend me at first but as she got older she would lose the battle. She would probably still come and visit with Sarah but at school she would be embarrassed if my name was mentioned and eventually she'd probably make up excuses to her mother so she wouldn't have to come see me anymore. To Aaron I would always be a stranger, his father, but a shadow of one all the same. Sarah, I knew would always come and visit, keeping up hope that one day I would be released.

"Sam?" Dean said cautiously.

I had completely forgotten my brother was there.

"Go away Dean. Go back to Lisa and Ben and S.J.," I muttered and rolled over so my back was facing him.

"It's for your own good, you know," Dean said and I heard the door close as he walked out.

After an unknown amount of time I heard the door open again and I looked over to see Dr. Sutcliff.

What does she want now? I thought and stood.

"It's time for your treatment," she said.

I paused.

"Treatment?" I asked, worriedly.

"It's alright Sam, it won't hurt," the doctor gave me a kind smile.

Nervous I followed her out of the room.

I noticed two burly orderlies loitering nearby and that only heightened my sense of unease.

"Where are we going?" I asked, nervous.

Dr. Sutcliff didn't reply as though she knew I already had the answer.

"Come on Sam," Dr. Sutcliff held out one arm as though to shepherd me in the right direction.

I stepped forward cautiously.

The two giant orderlies moved closer.

"Why are they here?" I asked.

"It's alright Sam," the doctor said as though calming a nervous child.

I stopped walking. We were only a few feet from my room because wherever it was we were going, I didn't want to get there any faster than I had to.

"Sam, I don't have time for this. I am not going to hurt you," the doctor said in an annoyed voice.

I stood there, looking at the middle-aged female doctor with graying blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Her lips were pursed in a frown of irritation and her hands were resting on her hips. I was surprised she wasn't tapping the toe of her shoe as well.

I realized that I did not trust this woman at all. Something told me she could be very dangerous when she wanted to be.

I was grabbed roughly by the two orderlies and they began marching me down the hallway.

"Let me go!" I cried out and struggled against them but they would not budge.

"Where are we going? What are you going to do to me?" I shouted at the doctor only a couple of feet in front of me.

Doctor Sutcliff whipped around so she was facing me.

"If you don't stop struggling I will have you sedated," she threatened.

I didn't know what to do. I wasn't going to come with her quietly but I knew if I was sedated I wouldn't have a chance. I stopped trying to break free but I didn't make it easier on the orderlies, I stopped walking and they ended up half-dragging, half-carrying me down the hallway. I knew it wouldn't change what was going to happen but it made me feel a little better.

We went into a lesser-used part of the hospital. The older part I guessed by the cracked, scuffed, faded tile floor and smudged walls and dim lighting.

We passed rooms no longer occupied, a nurses' station that now held only a clutter of junk.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"The Nolan Wing," Dr. Sutcliff answered this time.

The orderlies dragged me into a mostly empty room that at one time had been an office. The walls were painted a sea-green and there was a dark grey carpet on the floor. The skeletons of bookshelves lined the walls. A thick layer of dust coated everything. There were lighter patches on the walls where diplomas and certificates had once hung.

The room itself was quite large. Big enough to hold a table-gurney thing and a metal file cabinet upon which a small machine sat.

I looked at the machine, intrigued and anxious at the same time. It was small, squat and square. Its top was blue plastic; its front was grey plastic and metal with knobs and buttons. Wires tangled out of the machine like black spaghetti.

"What is that?" I asked the doctor.

"An ECT machine," Dr. Sutcliff answered.

"What!" I exclaimed.

It was an electroconvulsive therapy machine. ECT was used for patients with severe depression, mania or catatonia, usually as a last resort if other treatments failed.

"I don't want it, I don't want it," I told the doctor and struggled to break free of the orderlies' grip.

"Sam, it isn't going to hurt," Dr. Sutcliff said and sat beside the machine, next to the gurney.

"Just give me pills or whatever but don't electrocute me!" I pleaded as I continued to struggle.

"It's harmless, Sam, painless," the doctor said.

"No," I said.

"It's going to help you Sam," Dr. Sutcliff insisted, "you just have to relax."

"I don't want to be here," I said. I was losing it now but I didn't care. I was already in a mental hospital.

"Sam, the sooner you co-operate and calm down the sooner this will be over with," the doctor said behind clenched teeth.

I shook my head.

The doctor said and spoke, "every time. You do this every time and I cannot understand why you act like this. It isn't going to bite you, Sam."

Dr. Sutcliff gestured to the machine as it sat on its cabinet.

"Most patients like it but not you," the doctor spoke in an accusatory tone, "you act as though you're being sent to the electric chair."

I could tell that Dr. Sutcliff was becoming angry and I knew it wasn't a bright idea to piss someone in her position off.

I slumped; I knew I wasn't going to win this battle.

"There, was it that difficult? It'll all be over in a couple of minutes," the doctor said and I lay down on my back on the gurney when the orderlies let me go.

Although I appeared calm to the doctor on the outside, on the inside my heart was pounding in my chest painfully and adrenaline was coursing through my veins.

The doctor looked down at me and I saw a look in her eyes which terrified me. I felt like I was willfully submitting myself to torture and she was only too willing to oblige.

I gulped nervously as the doctor put the electrodes on either side of my head. All my muscles were tensed to spring.

Dr. Sutcliff turned away and turned the machine on.

I realized something was wrong. This did not seem right at all- a step was missing.

I wanted to speak but my mouth became as dry as cotton balls.

I closed my eyes and waited.

Without warning every nerve in my body was aflame. The pain was agonizing and I could do nothing to stop it. My thoughts shattered and I lost consciousness…

I woke with a jolt and looked around frantically. I was still in the motel room. The door opened and Dean looked in.

"Hey," he said, and stepped inside.

I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair nervously. I was still jumpy from the nightmare. I looked at my brother unsurely.

"I brought beer," Dean smiled and held up a 12-Pack.

I stood and stretched. My muscles were tight from sleeping in the chair.

Dean broke open the cardboard case and grabbed a beer and handed it to me when I made my way over.

"Thanks," I said and opened the bottle and took a long drink.

"I thought about what you said earlier," I began but Dean held up a hand.

"It's not my life, Sam, if you want to stay in Montana than who am I to stop you," Dean said.

"I know, but I've been thinking and maybe a change of scenery would be good for me," I finished.

"I'm not saying that Sarah and the kids and I are going to pack up and move to Cicero tomorrow, but I'll talk it over with Sarah and see what she thinks," I said.

"Okay, okay, I can live with that," Dean said and took a swig of his own beer.

"Oh, uh, what time is it?" I asked.

"Eleven twenty-four," Dean asked.

I had been asleep for a while although it felt as though I had just shut my eyes for a moment.

It's just stress, you know it is, I thought. I always slept poorly under stress.

I rummaged in my duffel bag, grabbed the three bottles of pills and took all six in quick succession, washing them down with beer.

Dean watched from the corner of his eye but said nothing.

"So, did you get any research done before your cat-nap?" Dean asked with a slight smile.

"Not really, there aren't too many creatures out there that would have this type of M.O." I answered.

Dean nodded.

"No problem. Bobby's looking as well and if anyone can figure out what this thing is he can," Dean said assuredly.

"Yeah," I said. I really wished we weren't doing this.

I was glad we were just confirming whether or not it was a monster or not and then we could let someone else take care of it and focus on Jonah.

"Did you see anything suspicious while you were out?" I asked, "or did you get the feeling like someone was watching you?"

"No, well, there were some girls checking me out but other than that I didn't get any vibes from anyone," Dean said and took another drink of beer.

"It's odd, you'd think Jonah would want to attack as soon as possible," I said, confused about Jonah's motives.

He didn't seem like the type of guy to just be all bark and no bite. I knew he was going to come after us but the question was when. What was he waiting for?

I finished off my beer and set the bottle into the garbage can in the corner of the room.

"Hey, Dean…." I paused.

"Yeah?" Dean asked and looked at me quizzically.

"Why haven't you phoned Lisa recently?" I asked. I was still thinking about my nightmare but decided not to bring it up- Dean would never do something like that to me so there was no point in talking about it.

Dean shrugged, "I'm concerned for their safety, you know she and the boys didn't leave Cicero and I don't want Jonah tracing the calls back to them."

Dean was lying; I could see it on his face. I think he wanted to keep Lisa at a distance because he knew she'd be pissed that he had left again.

The rest of the night, Dean and I sat in companionable silence. We watched some TV and drank some more beer. We both had a lot on our minds- what would happen when Jonah showed his face, our families and whether they were safe or not, the mysterious monster that inspired fear in its victims before spiriting them away in the middle of the night- and didn't speak for a while.

Dean went to sleep around one thirty but I remained awake. I couldn't sleep. I lay on my back in bed, staring at the ceiling as I listened to my brother's soft snoring.

I tried counting sheep but that only gave my mind something to focus on- I don't know why it's supposed to work anyway. I concentrated on keeping my mind blank, to not think of anything but that was like asking me not to breathe- it would be fine for a minute or two, but just when I was on the verge of sleep a thought would pop into my head.

I hope Bobby can figure this one out, I thought, because I have no clue what the Hell could do something like this.

I hated the idea of not knowing what this creature was, it was unlike anything Dean or I had ever seen before in the way it seemed to be able to materialize in its victims' homes and leave with no other evidence to suggest anything was awry other than a small scattering of dusty white particles.

This monster frightened me. Sure, Dean and I had fought many terrifying creatures- vampires, demons, a wendigo, ghosts galore, even angels and the Devil himself but at least we knew how to beat them.

But we're not actually going to fight this thing, I thought, we're just going to figure out what it is and then take care of Jonah. It didn't matter right now if we knew how to defeat this creature or not, it wasn't our responsibility. Still, though, I would have felt better knowing what was lurking out in the darkness.


	20. Master Of Reality

I was woken up by my cell phone's ring tone going off. I groggily sat up and pawed my phone from the pocket of my jeans and flipped it open.

"Hello?" I asked sleepily.

I glanced at the alarm clock and saw it was eight forty-five in the morning.

"I'm sorry; did I wake you from your beauty rest, princess?" Bobby's sarcastic voice grumbled.

"No, I was getting up anyway," I said and turned my head when I heard Sam sit up in his own bed- my phone must have woken him up.

"Halleluiah, Dean Winchester can wake up before noon hour," Bobby said.

"Yeah, yeah, hold on Bobby- I'm going to put you on speaker," I pressed the button and sat the phone down on the bed.

"Okay," I said, "what have you got for us?"

"Well, I have a few things this could be," Bobby said. He had obviously made a list.

"Go ahead," Sam said. He looked like he hadn't slept at all but I didn't say anything while Bobby was listening.

"There's the Alp or Trud, they come from Germany. They're demonic spirits that like to sit on their victim's chest in the middle of the night. They've also been known to crush animals to death… they're more mischievous than dangerous though and I've never heard of them over here- they seem to like it in Europe…" Bobby spoke, he sounded tired, and no doubt he had been doing research all night.

"How do they get into peoples' homes?" Sam asked.

"Usually a keyhole or small cracks in the floors or walls, anywhere they can squeeze through even if the house is locked tight," Bobby continued.

"Okay," I said slowly, "how do we kill them?"

"Iron," Bobby said simply.

Sam and I looked at one another, unsurprised- many supernatural creatures could be weakened or killed by iron.

"Traditionally, people use an iron-toothed comb to keep the Alp away but I think iron rounds would do the trick in this case," Bobby continued.

"I think I still have some rounds in the Impala," I said. They were harder to get than salt rounds but not impossible. I always kept a stash handy in case they were needed; some ghosts needed a little more encouragement than others when salt wouldn't cut it.

"Okay, what's next?" I asked.

"It could be a mara," Bobby stated.

Sam perked up noticeably.

"What?" I asked my brother.

"They take on the form of a black horse and suffocate their victims in their sleep," Sam interrupted Bobby before he could speak.

"The word 'nightmare' is associated with the mara," Sam said, once again interrupting Bobby.

"Hey! Who's the one who stayed up all night researching this?" the old hunter grumbled, not really angry.

"Sorry Bobby," Sam said and fell silent.

"Sam's right. The maras are demons but because they don't possess their victims they are more difficult to capture and exorcise," Bobby finished.

"Okay, okay, I'm liking the sound of this more and more," I said, nodding my head. At least these creatures could be disposed of with a little elbow grease.

"It could be Epiales," Bobby said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"A very old demon who induces nightmares, usually deadly ones," Bobby said soberly.

"But a demon all the same," I said.

"Yeah," Bobby said and hesitated.

"What is it Bobby?" Sam asked, a look of worry on his face.

"There's something else it could be," Bobby seemed reluctant to speak.

"Spit it out Bobby, don't leave us in suspense," I said humorlessly. Something told me I was not going to like what the old hunter had to say next.

"Phobetor," Bobby said like I was supposed to know what that meant.

I looked at Sam and saw his shoulders slump.

"What!" I said at either my brother or Bobby, whoever answered first.

"Phobetor is the son of the Greek god, Hypnos. He's the god of nightmares. It's believed he walks in dreams to visit fear on those deserving," Bobby answered.

"Ah shit," I said. Of course, the last one would have to be a god.

Sam and I had dealt with gods in the past and we both knew how difficult they were to kill. I wasn't sure but I figured Sam and I were the only hunters who had fought with gods before.

"Don't get your panties in a knot just yet, you two," Bobby said.

"It's not certain that Phobetor is behind this," the old hunter continued.

"How will we be able to tell for sure?" I spoke.

"Well, if you find a body than it's a demon or spirit and if there's nothing than those poor people have probably ended up as midnight snacks," Bobby said.

I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face.

"Okay, thanks Bobby. We'll call if anything turns up," I said and turned off the speaker and closed my phone.

Sam looked at me. I could tell what he was thinking: if it was this Phobetor than it was clear that we'd have to go after it ourselves.

I stood and stretched, with Bobby's news there was no way I was going back to sleep now.

"Don't worry Sam, it's probably just one of those mare things," I said confidently and grabbed some clothes from my duffel bag and went into the bathroom to shower.

After showering and changing into some jeans and a dark brown long-sleeved shirt I decided I didn't really want to have another take-out breakfast so I waited while Sam got ready for the day. I looked through the missing person files again, trying desperately to find something that would point us in the right direction.

Bobby had suggested it could have been a mara or Epiales, both demons, but there had been no evidence of sulfur at the crime scenes.

Maybe the cops disturbed it while they were wandering around the victims' homes or else the family members cleaned it up unaware of what it was, I thought and set one file down to pick up another.

This one belonged to seven-year-old Shelly Wilson. I looked down at Shelly's photo- it was a school photo and she was beaming at the camera like she had been born for the limelight. Shelly's blonde hair was done in neat pigtails on either side of her head with plum-coloured ribbons that matched the dress she wore. Her light blue eyes sparkled with happiness.

Cases with kids had always been tough. Now, though, they were even more so. I would turn on the TV or radio and an Amber Alert would announce another child had disappeared and my thoughts would go immediately to Ben and S.J., Faith and Aaron. I would see the pictures of the missing child on the television and I could imagine if it was my son or step-son's photo or my niece or nephew's. The worst thing about it was, I think, many of the children had been taken not by supernatural monsters but by human monsters- an enemy Sam and I could not fight.

I closed Shelly Wilson's file and set it back on the table as I heard my brother open the bathroom door.

Sam stepped outside wearing a dark-wash jeans and a blue plaid long-sleeved shirt over a white t-shirt. His hair was damp and his bangs stuck to his forehead, almost obscuring his eyes. Sam paused to set his dirty clothes in his duffel bag- we needed to get to a Laundromat later- and looked at the ten files strewn across the table.

"What d'you say we go out for breakfast?" I asked. To tell the truth after two years of living in a normal house I was getting fidgety from being in a small motel room.

"Sure," Sam said and shrugged.

Twenty minutes later Sam and I were sitting in a booth in a little no-name diner. The interior looked pretty much the same as every diner my brother and I had ever been to- nothing stands out about it. The atmosphere though, was warm and friendly.

Both Sam and I ordered coffee. I asked for a couple of fried eggs, bacon and toast while Sam had pancakes.

We ate in silence for a couple of minutes until I spoke.

"What's on your mind?" I asked, noticing Sam looking pensive.

"Bobby said it might be a demon but there was no sulfur," Sam said and slid a piece of pancake around his plate to coat it with syrup.

"I was thinking that too. But you know, with all the cops stomping around or the families cleaning or whatever, it could have been washed away before we arrived," I said.

"I guess," Sam said a little more confidently.

We had been on cases before where evidence of a supernatural entity had been compromised simply because those involved who were not hunters had not known what it was.

I finished eating first so I sat back and enjoyed my coffee while Sam continued to munch away slowly.

As I waited I couldn't help but examine my brother's appearance. He had dark circles under his eyes, not bad but they were noticeable. He kind of hunched over his plate, as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible. His mouth was set in a grim line of stress.

I sighed and took another gulp of coffee. I had examined my reflection in the bathroom mirror this morning and although I didn't look tired, stress had caused a line to form between my eyebrows and I looked a little on-edge, like I had been drinking too many Red Bulls.

When we're done with this, no more. This was hard on both of us.

I thought I'd be able to take it but I guessed that the stress of Jonah Thompson being out there somewhere and the uncertainty of the case had taken me by surprise.

I jumped when I felt my cell phone vibrate and begin to play its familiar ringtone in my pocket.

I set my coffee down, grabbed my phone and flipped it open without checking to see who the caller was.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Agent Auerbach?" Lieutenant Crabbe's voice asked on the other end.

I cleared my throat, "Yes, this is Agent Auerbach."

"I need you and your partner to meet me at the coroner's office as soon as possible," Crabbe said. Her voice was decidedly emotionless as though she had detached herself from whatever lay in the morgue or was desperately trying to keep her feelings in check.

"What's the address, we'll be right there," I said and wrote the coroner's address on my napkin.

Crabbe hung up without any niceties.

"We've gotta go to the coroner's," I said to Sam and he rose immediately, his breakfast forgotten.

I flicked a ten dollar bill onto the table from my wallet and Sam and I rushed out.

We sped back to the motel, changed into our suits in record time and drove at a more conservative pace to the morgue- which happened to be across the street and down a ways from the police station.

Sam and I flashed our badges and were admitted with no questions. We were led down a sterile, white hallway. When we turned the corner we saw the Lieutenant leaning against one wall.

Crabbe came over to greet us, "thank you Agents for coming so quickly."

"Was a body discovered?" Sam asked.

Crabbe nodded, "early this morning."

"Is it one of the ten?" I asked cautiously.

"I.D just came in- it's Thom Zimmerman," Crabbe said and shook her head.

"In all my years of law enforcement I have never seen anything like this before," she broke away from her professional persona for a moment and looked as though she might cry.

"Can we… can we see the body?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Crabbe nodded and led us into the medical examiner's room. The room was large and much like a hospital operating room except that it was too late for these people.

Along one wall were row upon row of stainless steel drawers where the bodies were kept. In the middle of the room sat about six stainless steel tables, one of them was draped in a white blanket.

The medical examiner was a small, bony man with a balding head and squinty eyes.

"These are FBI Agents Auerbach and Carnie," Crabbe introduced Sam and I.

"This is Doctor Redding," Crabbe gestured to the M.E.

Dr. Redding shook his shiny head in bafflement.

"I've never seen anything like this," the doctor said.

Sam and I waited with bated breath to see the remains of Thom Zimmerman.

Dr. Redding pulled back the cloth with a flourish and I saw what was left of poor Thom.

There was a head, starting to decompose- eyeless, its lips pulled back to the teeth, the cheeks sunken and waxy- an abdomen that had been, ah, ripped open, leaving a gaping raw hole where cartilage and ribs poked through. I could see odd bits of muscle and tissues in the wound that seemed to have been hollowed out.

Crabbe closed her eyes and looked as though she was going to be sick.

"What was the cause of death?" Sam asked. His face was stoic but I could see the expression in his eyes that he knew we were dealing with no spirit or demon.

"Uh, well, officially, the cause of death is asphyxiation," Redding stammered.

"How do you come to that conclusion?" I asked.

"Ah, well, the evidence shows that he suffocated to death," Redding answered.

"Someone strangled him?" Sam asked.

"Not quite," Redding moved to the body's side and lifted up one stiff hand.

"You see the nails?" The M.E. indicated.

I saw the young man's nails were torn and crusted with dried blood. His thumbnail had been completely ripped way, leaving soft pink tissue underneath.

"When I was first examining him, I found slivers of wood embedded under the nails," Redding explained.

"So someone… what, locked him up?" I asked. Maybe this wasn't some supernatural baddie at all, just a really slick serial killer.

"I found no evidence that he had been forcibly confined- no ligature marks, no defense wounds that would normally be found if someone was being held against their will," Redding answered.

"So what about that?" I asked, pointing at the victim's hollowed-out abdominal cavity.

"That, uh, occurred perimortem," Redding said uncomfortably.

"Hold on! He was still alive when he had his insides removed?" I felt a wave of nausea go through me at the thought.

"The victim was near death but, yes, he was still alive," Redding said.

"Did you find out anything else, ah, what organs were missing?" I asked.

"The heart, the liver, the stomach, lungs, spleen, and both kidneys," Redding answered. He covered the body back up.

"I also found this in the victim's hair," the M.E. held up a tiny stoppered vial.

Sam took the glass and held it close to his face.

"White dust," he said pointedly.

I looked and saw tiny granules of sand or dust, just like those found in the bed sheets of the other victims. The same white substance found in Thom Zimmerman's bed.

"Where was he found, Dr. Redding?" Sam asked.

"In, uh, in his home, actually. His roommate found him under his bedcovers, positioned as though he was asleep," Redding stammered.

Sam and I looked at each other. Not only was this monster one sick son of a bitch, it also had a sense of humour.

"Now we know he didn't just run off to Vegas or something," I muttered, looking down at the sheet-draped body.

"Thank you Dr. Redding," Sam said and shook the medical examiner's hand.

I shook the doctor's hand and gave him a card in case he found out something else.

We walked down the hall with Crabbe. She just kept shaking her head in a helpless manner.

"I don't understand it, I mean, I heard about the Bayou Strangler down in Houma and Sean Vincent Gillis in the Baton Rouge Metro area and Derrick Todd Lee who killed women here and Baton Rouge but I have never seen anything like this… It reminds me of, of, I don't know, Jack the Ripper or something," Crabbe rambled.

The Lieutenant stopped and looked at Sam and I, "is there any hope for the other victims? For the children?"

"If the other victims are still alive, we will do everything in our power to bring them home safely," Sam said, reassuringly.

"What am I going to do? What are you going to do?" Crabbe asked and continued to walk down the hall toward the exit.

"Keep the press at bay; don't give them an inch or this is going to get out of control," Sam instructed like a real FBI agent.

"Meanwhile, we'll talk to our supervisors and try and figure out what is connecting the victims so we can stop this guy before he strikes again," I continued.

"How do you know it's a man?" Crabbe asked. We were standing in the lobby now, just inside of the doors.

I was itching to call Bobby but we had to deal with the Lieutenant first.

"It's unlikely a woman would be able to abduct a healthy, able-bodied young man like Thom Zimmerman- even if she'd drugged him somehow, he would be far too heavy to move without assistance and from the accounts of the victims' family members, this killer made no noise, he moved quickly and knew exactly how to subdue his victim so they'd just seem to vanish into thin air," I said with confidence.

"Oh," Crabbe said.

"No offence to you, of course," I apologized. I didn't want to make my explanation to seem sexist or anything like that.

"There are many female serial killers, Lieutenant, if they kill men it's for material gain and will often have some sort of relationship with their victims. Their victims tend to be spouses, children or elderly people. They use covert or low-profile methods to kill- like poisoning- and pick specific areas in which to kill and often do not leave city or state limits.

There was Elizabeth Bathory in Hungary who murdered hundreds of girls from 1590 to 1610. Beverly Allitt in England killed thirteen babies in the hospital where she worked as a nurse in 1991. Nannie Doss killed eleven people between 1927 and 1954.

And then there is Belle Gunness who may have killed as many as forty people in Illinois and Indiana. Female killers also work in teams like Myra Hindley and Ian Brady in England and Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo in Canada," Sam said. This did nothing to comfort at all. There may not be as many female serial killers as male, but it was still unnerving just how many there were regardless of gender.

"How do you know it's not a team killing?" Crabbe asked.

I held back the urge to sigh in exasperation.

"Teams usually go for easy prey- children or young women- and although a few of the victims are such, remember there are also grown men among the missing," Sam said.

After that we quickly said good-bye to the Lieutenant and got into the car.

"Jesus Sam," I exclaimed as I drove toward our motel.

"Sorry if I kind of got carried away," Sam muttered, looking chagrined.

I shook my head, "forget a lawyer, you should have been a freakin' profiler for the Feds."

"It was a course in college," Sam explained.

"Well, whatever it was, it seemed to work on keeping the Lieutenant pacified," I answered.

"I don't think this is any demon or spirit killing people," Sam said soberly.

"Yeah, me neither," I muttered.

It was beginning to look more and more like a god was behind this.

"We should go back later and examine the body ourselves, you know, get a closer look," I said and saw Sam nod out the corner of my eye.

As soon as we stepped into the motel room I took my cell phone out and called Bobby.

"Whatdoyouwant?" Bobby grumbled, his question sounded like one whole word.

"A body was found this morning and it's not pretty," I answered without further invitation.

"Uh huh, and?" Bobby asked.

"The guy had been suffocated and had his guts ripped out," I said.

"I don't know about you but something tells me no Alp or mara would do that to their victim," I continued as Bobby remained silent.

"Shit, Dean, you don't think it's Phobetor? Bobby finally spoke up.

"I don't want to but it's looking more and more likely," I said.

"What are you thinking, boy?" Bobby asked.

"I'm thinking that now Sam and I have confirmed it's a god, you call up some hunter and get him to finish this bastard off," I answered.

"Dean, I don't think anyone other than you two have tangled with the likes of this," Bobby said apologetically.

"C'mon Bobby, we can't… Sam can't," I argued.

Sam had pulled off his dress shoes and draped his suit jacket over one of the chairs, loosened his tie and was sitting on his bed, watching me and waiting for me to finish speaking to Bobby.

Bobby sighed, "I'll call around and see if anyone wants to take this on but don't get your hopes up Dean. You may have to do this one last time."

I gritted my teeth and then thanked Bobby and hung up.

I looked at Sam. He didn't need a summary of what the old hunter had said- he knew by my expression that Bobby's news was not good.

Sam and I waited around for a good time to stop by the coroner's office again and get a better look at Thom Zimmerman's earthly remains.

I had a couple of beers and watched some TV and Sam phoned Sarah and talked with her awhile.

Late in the afternoon Sam and I headed out once more after making sure the good Doctor Redding was on his lunch-hour.

Fake FBI badges are amazing things- Sam and I got into the morgue with no problems or questions.

I made sure to close the door once we were in and Sam was already checking the placards on the drawers to find Thom Zimmerman's body.

"Got it," Sam said and opened the sliding door to reveal the corpse.

I couldn't help but grimace at the sight. I had seen a lot of dead bodies in my life but it never gets any better.

Sam found some gloves, put them on and handed me a pair.

We were interested in what had caused the gaping wound in Thom's abdomen.

The young man had been sliced from the base of his throat to bellybutton in one clean stroke.

Sam moved closer to the body and moved some tissue away from the wound with a wet sucking sound. The ribs had been broken- the sternum crushed.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Sam as he continued to poke around.

"I am pretty sure nothing human killed him," Sam muttered even though we had sort of already come to that conclusion.

Sam looked at Thom's face.

"How do you find your victims?" Sam muttered as though Thom Zimmerman might give him the answer.

"Well, if Phobetor is the god of nightmares, maybe that's what connects the victims," I said, trying not to sound like it was the most obvious answer.

"Everyone has nightmares Dean; so what makes Thom and the others stand out?"

I shrugged, "who really cares Sam? I just want to kill this prick and concentrate on Jonah."

"I wish I knew what the importance of that white dust was," Sam said and extracted his blood-smeared glove from the body.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, distracted.

"They don't really leave anything behind, Dean. Gods usually clean up after themselves so they won't attract unwanted attention," Sam said as he peeled the gloves off and tossed them in a trash bin marked 'BIO-HAZARDOUS WASTE'.

"So, maybe Phobetor is more self-assured than the others, maybe he knows no one is going to think a god killed Thom," I answered as Sam pushed Thom's corpse back into the drawer.

Sam shook his head, "he has to know about hunters though. Surely he'd be wary of them, even if they don't know exactly what Phobetor is they'd be on guard."

I still thought the bastard was making some kind of sick joke out of placing the mutilated corpses of his victims back into their beds but maybe that was just me.

We rode back to the motel in silence. I was already planning on hunting down Phobetor and stabbing that son of a bitch and rescuing the rest of the victims if that was possible.

When we got back into the room, Sam, without taking off his shoes or suit jacket, fell onto his bed and was asleep before I could even untie the laces of my dress shoes.

"Sure, I'll just hang out here," I muttered but didn't really mind. I knew Sam was probably not getting a lot of sleep and I would rather have him taking naps in the middle of the day than try to keep awake and end up collapsing from exhaustion or something.

To tell the truth, a nap wasn't looking too far away for me either but I knew I needed to wait for Bobby's call.

I grabbed a beer from the mini fridge and sat at the table and turned on the television. I flipped around the channels until I found some action movie and I decided to watch that for a while.

SPN

I would never complain of a lack of sleep or even let one yawn show Dean that I was less than well-rested. Unfortunately though, my body betrayed me. As soon as I stepped into the room I was overcome with a feeling of exhaustion and knew that if I didn't obey my body's desire for sleep I would regret it later. The moment I closed my eyes I was in a deep sleep.

Instead of being restful and energizing though, when I woke an hour later, I felt more tired than I had been before- memories of Hell had plagued my sleeping mind to create nightmares. I tried to think of a time when I had slept peacefully and I could only remember when I was at Stanford, with Jessica, and under the impression that I could live a normal apple-pie life with the woman I loved.

I sat up and saw that my brother was watching some Sylvester Stallone movie while he waited for Bobby's call.

Dean looked over at me from where he sat, "sweet dreams?"

"Sure," I muttered and went into the bathroom.

When I stepped back into the room I heard my brother's cell phone go off and Dean grabbed it and flipped it open.

"What's up?" Dean asked. His attention riveted on what the old hunter had to say.

I watched as Dean listened to Bobby and his lips got smaller and smaller until they were a thin white line on his face. So it wasn't good news then.

"I understand, thanks for trying Bobby," Dean said and closed his phone.

"Bobby called around but apparently no other hunter wanted to take this case," Dean answered my questioning look.

"Look, Sam, I don't want to do this as much as you. I don't want you to get involved in this so I think I should go solo on this one," Dean said.

"No way Dean," I answered, "you are not going against something as strong as a god without me."

I could see by my brother's expression that he was worried about me.

"Sam," Dean began but I interrupted him.

"Dean, there is no way you can fight this thing by yourself- you are going to need help and I am the only other hunter who knows how to kill these things," I insisted.

Dean didn't speak but I could see he was not happy with me being involved- what did he think I was going to do if it hadn't been some Greek god but a demon or spirit- sit on the sidelines and watch?

The rest of the day I spent researching Phobetor or trying to- there was not a whole lot of information on him.

After hours of futile searching I set my laptop aside and checked on what Dean was doing. He had gone out to the car to see if he had some stakes left. He had spent at least twenty minutes rifling through the secret compartment in the trunk before I heard a happy excalimation and he stepped inside the motel room with a stake gripped in one hand.

"I knew I had some stakes still," Dean grinned.

" Are you sure they'll work on Phobetor anyway, Dean," I answered.

"Why not? He's a god isn't he, like the others we've fought?" My brother argued.

"Yes, but he's the god of nightmares Dean so I don't think he needs to be, uh, on the physical plane to do his thing," I said. I had been trying to figure out how the god could have possibly gotten into locked houses and kidnap ten people so stealthily.

"Oh don't go all metaphysical on me now, Sam," Dean protested.

"It makes sense Dean, he appears in the victims' nightmares and… somehow… gets them out of their houses," I said.

Dean didn't look convinced.

"Why don't you ask Phobetor how he does his Houdini trick when we meet him, then?" I grumbled and stood and stretched.

Dean sighed and set the stake down on his bed.

"This is not how I wanted to be spending my July," Dean said.

I nodded. All I wanted was to be back in Montana with Sarah and our son and daughter.

"Oh well, the sooner we find this bastard the sooner we can confront Jonah and go home," Dean said.

"So, Sherlock, how do we find Phobetor?" Dean said and sat down on his bed with an expectant expression.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully.

Dean laughed as though I had told a joke but when he saw the look on my face he stopped.

"You're serious, you don't know," Dean said.

I shook my head.

"I still don't know how he's picking his victims so I have no way of knowing when he'll strike next," I answered.

"I still think it might be nightmares, Sam," Dean began and I gave him an exasperated look.

"Just hear me out," Dean pleaded and I nodded.

"Okay, so everyone has nightmares, sure but not everyone has night terrors. Mostly children get them but so can adults. They can cause memory loss of the experience and hallucinations… the person will sweat and breathe quickly and their heart rate will be fast and some, especially children will wake screaming," Dean said.

I thought for a moment- night terrors caused feelings of dread or terror without an accompanying nightmare. Children, when they experience night terrors were usually between the ages of two and six.

"But we asked the victims' families if they'd had any fear of the dark previously," I said.

"I know but maybe some of the victims had night terrors as children and we didn't think to ask about it, we were only concerned with the few days prior to their abduction," Dean said.

"How do you know so much about night terrors?" I asked Dean.

"Lisa told me that Ben used to have them when he was little and that the disorder may be passed genetically so she was worried about S.J.," Dean explained.

I nodded.

"Do you want to interview the families again?" Dean offered.

"Yeah," I answered and checked the time on the alarm clock- it was just after four o'clock in the evening.

"First thing tomorrow," I answered. I was not in the mood to go around to the victims' houses today, after seeing Thom Zimmerman's body.

"You hungry?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," I answered even though I wasn't, not really.

We stopped at yet another diner. I didn't really care where we ate, especially when I had little appetite.

Dean ordered a cheeseburger, Coke and fries. I had a roast beef sandwich.

"We should take the kids to Disney World when they're older," Dean said between mouthfuls of burger.

"What?" I asked, distracted. I wasn't even paying attention to what my brother was saying.

"You know, Disney World, in Florida?" Dean said and took a sip of his Coke.

"Yeah, that'd be great," I said half-heartedly.

Where had that come from? I thought, Dean's suddenly thinking about taking our kids to an amusement park when I was so focused on killing Phobetor and stopping Jonah.

Dean and I had never been to Disney World ourselves. That seemingly quintessential rite of passage of childhood had slipped by as though it had never been.

At least it hadn't been, not for Dean and I. Of course some mission or another had taken us to the Sunshine State, but Dad had not been interested in the empire of Walt Disney. He had been intent of getting rid of a chupacabra that had been terrorizing the residents of Orlando.

Dean and I stayed in the motel room for a full week and a half, never mentioning anything remotely related to the nearby theme park, especially in front of Dad.

When we left, headed on another mission in what seemed like an endless stream of missions, Dean and I said nothing. Surely Dad knew that the park would have called to two young boys with its siren song, even two young boys who were training to be hunters. What we wouldn't have given to have a day, just one day to pretend like we were a normal family on summer vacation and to have the chance to be children.

Dean and I thought that Dad was being cruel; unfair to constantly push us to be hunters, adults when we all we wanted to do was to be kids. Dean, I think, got over it faster than I did. He just focused all his energy on helping Dad and trying to make him proud.

As I think about it now, I am glad that Dad raised us the way he did. I know I used to complain but if Dad hadn't told us all he knew about hunting I don't think I would have been able to face Lucifer and win like I did. Dad was doing his best to protect Dean and I from what was out there and for that I grateful.

Now that I have children of my own, I thought, I am going to do my best to protect them from what's out there without ending their childhood before it begins.

Dean didn't seem to notice my distracted expression and continued to talk about taking the kids to the Hoover Dam or something.

I would nod my head or mutter 'uh huh' or 'yeah' so it appeared as though I was paying attention.

When we got back to the motel Dean took the Impala and went to get some beer. I took a hot shower and then changed from my dress shirt and pants into some old faded jeans and a black t-shirt. I looked at my laptop sitting on my duffle bag and decided I didn't want to do any research tonight. I didn't think I would find anything new on Phobetor anyway.

I took the three orange medicine bottles from my duffle, though, and gulped the six pills down with a cup of water.

I sat on my bed and turned on the TV and flipped aimlessly through the channels, not planning on watching a show, just trying to keep occupied until Dean came back.

Sleep tugged at my mind and my bed was feeling especially comfortable; I set the remote down on the top sheet of the bed and lay down on my back.

I must have only been asleep for ten or fifteen minutes when I was woken up by the familiar growl of the Impala's engine.

I sat up and pretended to watch some game show as Dean stepped inside.

"Hey," Dean said and pushed the door shut with one foot.

Besides beer, Dean had grabbed a bag of potato chips, pretzels and peanut butter M&Ms.

"Expecting a party?" I asked.

Dean shrugged, "you know me with a bottomless pit for a stomach."

My brother dumped the loot onto his bed, opened the cardboard box of beer and handed me a bottle. Next he sat down, pawed through the junk food and tossed me a bag of chips.

"You're not eating a whole lot and I figure having some junk food will at least keep you going for a little while," Dean answered my questioning look.

Oh. I had hoped that Dean wouldn't notice how stressed I was but I knew he would, just as I knew he'd try and relieve it.

Dean grabbed the bag of pretzels and began munching on them.

"You know what these need?" Dean asked.

"No," I answered.

"Mustard," Dean said, "you can't have pretzels without mustard."

I couldn't help but chuckle as I imagined Dean in a grocery store with Ben and S.J., comparing the various types of mustard for sale and trying to pick the one that would go best with pretzels.

I opened the bag of chips- ketchup- and began to eat them, slowly, because I was not a big fan of that flavour.

I had eaten about a quarter of the bag when I decided that I couldn't take the taste anymore and set the chips aside.

Dean offered the bag of candy but I declined.

My brother was still working his way through the pretzels, washing them down with gulps of beer.

Dean and I spent the rest of the evening watching random stuff on TV: a game show, the last half hour of a movie, even some infomercial as it got later.

I was ready to sleep just after midnight- early I know but I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.

I set the open bag of chips on the table and lay down. Dean turned off the television; put the beer in the mini fridge, set the mostly eaten bag of pretzels and as of yet untouched bag of M&Ms on the table, turned out the lights and went to his own bed.

I don't know how long I lay there, not long I think, before my eyes closed as though of their own accord and within minutes I was fast asleep…

… I looked around and all I saw was swirling mist, waist-high in a darkness illuminated only but some unknown phosphorescence. I didn't know where the eerie light was coming from but it didn't really allow me to see any better than if it had been pitch black.

It was slightly cold, but nothing compared to the nightmares I had of Lucifer when the temperature was well below freezing.

I heard a sound, like something sliding across pavement and I tried to see what had caused it.

"Hello?" I said.

I heard the sliding sound again, closer this time but I was not afraid.

"Who's out there?" I asked.

Slowly, slowly the sound came closer and closer. Now it sounded more like a snake slithering over the ground.

I turned to run when a shape appeared before me, barring my way.

The shape was tall, matching my height. At first it was indistinguishable, just a loose form but then it began to resolve itself into the shape of a man, or what I thought was a man.

I watched as a coat seemed to peel itself from the main body and flap out behind it. Long, thin arms and skeletal hands filled in the sleeves. A wide-brimmed fedora grew out of a large, head and thick neck. A horizontal gash appeared in the front of the head and widened until it almost bisected the man's face- a mouth. Two large, red eyes opened and although they had no pupils I knew they were looking right at me. The creature's body seemed to glow pale in the near darkness.

I stared in disbelief at the creature before me and made to step backwards when a tendril shot out from where the man's legs should be and wrapped around my legs. I looked down and saw that the man's torso ended in a thick column of matter, whether it was flesh or something inorganic I couldn't tell.

The tendril squeezed my legs hard and my knees almost buckled in protest.

"What are you?" I gasped as pain seared up my legs from my feet to my hips.

The man opened its wide mouth and I saw its black insides.

Instead of answering, the man laughed a deep, menacing sound.

I struggled to free my legs but the creature only released more tendrils until I was pinned from my shoulders downward, my arms against my sides.

The creature's skin had a cold, grainy texture and shifted almost constantly. I looked down at the tendrils that had formed a single tentacle around my body.

In shock I realized that this creature was made up almost entirely of sand!

I glanced up at the creature's cherry red eyes and clearly saw my reflection in their crimson depths.

"Are you Phobetor?" I managed to gasp, the pressure on my chest made it difficult to catch a breath.

"That is what I used to be called when you humans still knew the old gods," the monster answered, his voice a vile hiss.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Humans need to know what fear truly is once more," Phobetor answered.

The god opened his mouth as wide as it would go and a black, pointed tongue lolled out. I shrunk back as Phobetor licked the side of my face- his tongue dry and rough like a cat's.

"I know what you fear," Phobetor said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"The dark, high places, confined spaces, spiders, dogs," Phobetor listed off some of the most common phobias.

"Where are the other victims?" I asked.

"They are alive, for now," Phobetor answered.

The god bobbed his head closer to me and spoke again.

"I know what you fear Sam Winchester," he said.

"Your fear is very strong," he continued.

"You fear Lucifer," Phobetor smiled like the Cheshire Cat, bearing needlelike teeth.

"He's dead," I whispered, "how can I fear him if he's gone?"

Phobetor tightened his hold on me and I cried out in pain.

"It does not matter if he is dead, your memories still make you fear," Phobetor hissed angrily.

I panted for breath, "What are you going to do?"

"I will show you what real terror tastes like!" Phobetor exclaimed.

"And then I will find out what you taste like," he finished with a grin.

I shuddered. I thought of Thom Zimmerman- Phobetor must have stuck the poor man in his worst nightmare and then ate him.

As far as gods and their eating habits went, Phobetor certainly was one of the more imaginative.

"It won't work, Phobetor, they are just memories- I'm not really afraid because I know they are just that, memories," I spoke, trying not to think of said memories.

Phobetor laughed, his sharp teeth flashing, "You will not think so after I have twisted them to my own purposes."

I gulped. I didn't think my time in Lucifer's Cage could be any worse and I didn't want to find out how Phobetor would make it so, even if it was just a nightmare.

If the god knew I still feared the Devil and Hell than he surely knew my other fears, no matter how trivial or unrealistic they may seem.

Phobetor raised one thin, skeletal hand close to my face and I remembered that Thom Zimmerman had had his eyes removed. My own eyes wide with fear, I watched as the god's long, clawed fingers moved closer and closer… and then stopped.

I had been holding my breath but I didn't dare let it go. Phobetor smiled evilly and gave me a pointed look that meant 'you're in my world, you're helpless against me.' It was familiar to me- I knew that same mentality from Lucifer when I was in Hell.

I let my breath go in a whoosh and spoke, "where are the victims?"

"They are here," Phobetor said thoughtfully.

I looked around but could only see the slightly luminous mist, curling around the Greek god and me.

I closed my eyes and slumped against my bonds, I knew I wasn't going anywhere unless Phobetor allowed me to.

I looked up when I felt the god's tendrils retreating and I stumbled backwards on numb legs.

I glanced around but saw no trace of the god. He had simply disappeared; perhaps he had dissolved into sand and slid away. But why?

I brushed grains of pale sand from my jeans and shirt and when I straightened I thought that maybe, just maybe it wasn't quite as dark anymore. The light seemed to have taken on the slightly grey tint of the pre-dawn sky…

I woke slowly and looked around. I was still in the motel room, lying on my bed as though I had just fallen asleep but a quick glance at the alarm clock told me hours had passed.

It was only half past six in the morning but the light outside showed a sky brightening from grey to pink.

Dean was still asleep, naturally, laying on his stomach and looking contented.

I wanted to do something so I stood, grabbed the car keys that Dean had left on the table and headed out.

I drove around for a while, waiting for the stores to open and thinking about Phobetor.

I wasn't sure why I hadn't been kidnapped like the victims, I wasn't even sure exactly where they were, or their sleeping bodies, I guess.

It was obvious that the god did not see Dean and I as any sort of threat. He was comfortable in the knowledge that when we fell asleep we were in his domain and had to play the game according to his rules.

When a coffee shop opened I was the first customer inside. I got two large black coffees and stood waiting for the cashier to put the food in the bag- a couple of bagels with herb and garlic cream cheese- when I saw the front page of the newspaper in the stand by the door.

I grabbed the drinks and rushed and took a paper and pushed my way out the door with a cup in each hand and the news under one arm.

"Hey! You forgot your food!" I heard the cashier call as the door closed and I made my way through the parking lot that was empty except for the Impala and three employees' cars.

I set the coffee on the car's roof, fished the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door. I just remembered the drinks before driving away, set them in the holders and started the engine. I tossed the newspaper on the passenger seat and tore out of the driveway.

I sped back to the motel and opened the door so I slammed against the opposite wall.

Dean, who had still been sleeping, propped himself on his elbows and turned to look at me in confusion.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, his voice slurred with sleep.

"Look at this," I said and tossed the paper to my brother.

It landed on Dean's back and he moved into a sitting position and looked at the front page.

My brother squinted at the paper, there were not any lights on in the room and he was still not fully awake yet.

"They've named him, Dean! The press is calling him the Lafayette Ripper," I explained since he didn't seem to be reading, just staring.

"So?" Dean muttered and set the paper to one side.

"We don't need reports and all that crap when we're trying to kill him!" I said.

Dean looked at me curiously, "you do know that we are not really FBI agents right?"

"I know that but the journalists won't know that Agent Auerbach and Carnie are just fakes," I said.

Dean stood and walked over to me, took one of the cups of coffee I was still holding, now in one hand.

My brother did not look worried in the slightest.

"What? No breakfast? Some of us like to eat, you know," Dean said and sipped at his coffee, testing its temperature.

I gave Dean a withering look and sat down on my bed.

Dean turned on the lights and peered out the window, through a crack in the blinds.

"It looks like it's going to be a nice day," he muttered and turned around.

"You've got something on your shoulder," Dean said and stepped forward.

He reached out and brushed some white sand from my shirt. He looked at me with a confused expression.

"I met him Dean," I said.

"Met him?" Dean asked.

I nodded, "I sort of had a nightmare last night and… he attacked me."

I guess it wasn't really a nightmare, exactly but I didn't know what else to call it.

"And?" Dean looked expectant.

"He's killing people because he thinks humans don't remember what fear really is," I said.

Dean shrugged, "makes sense. With all those horror movies and haunted houses people set up around Halloween, everyone thinks it's fun to be scared, they have a good time, it's entertaining."

"Yeah," I muttered.

"So what's with the dust?" My brother asked and gulped some coffee.

"It's not dust, its sand. He's made out of sand," I said.

"He uses his victims' fears against them, twists their dreams into nightmares- he can control their dreams, Dean," I said

"What? Like the comic book?" Dean asked.

"More like 'Enter Sandman,'" I said.

Dean nodded.

"He isn't afraid of us at all," I continued.

"I don't know if the stake's going to be enough to kill him," I said and sighed, "I mean, how I am supposed to bring the stake with me into my dream in order to kill Phobetor…"

"Are you alright?" Dean asked even though it was clear I wasn't.

"Why me, Dean? You have nightmares too, don't you? So, why come after me?" I asked.

Dean looked uncomfortable for a moment and then spoke, "I rarely have nightmares, Sam, especially about my time in Hell. You though, geez, you have them almost nightly as far as I can tell if the fact that your still taking the medication is anything to go by. I hate to say this Sam, but that makes you a target if you can't get past what happened- if it's still fresh in your mind as though it happened only yesterday."

Dean continued, "The fear they must cause you, the stress, that seems to be exactly what Phobetor is looking for in his victims."

"Just another reason why I should suck it up and get on with my life," I muttered.

"I didn't say that," Dean said and drank some more coffee.

You were thinking it though, I thought. I haven't forgotten our earlier argument, Dean.

"Hey, don't look like that- maybe we can use this to our advantage," Dean said.

"How?" I asked.

"Think about it: if Phobetor is focused on you, maybe he'll spend less time chowing down on his victims and that'll give you a chance to kill the son of a bitch," Dean said confidently.

"So I'm bait?" I asked angrily.

"Not really, more like the Trojan Horse," Dean smiled.

That was all well and good for Dean to say but he wasn't the one who was going to be tormented by nightmares of his worst fears.

"We still have to work out how to kill him, Dean!" I exclaimed. I looked down at my hands and was surprised that I was holding my coffee cup. I drank some of the strong, caffeinated liquid.

"We'll figure it out Sam," Dean said and made as if to speak again when his phone went off in his pocket.

"Hello?" Dean asked.

"Hold on, okay… okay, we'll be there right away," Dean said and closed his phone.

"That was the Lieutenant, she said it's an emergency," he said and we quickly slipped into our suits, brushed our teeth and combed our hair, trying to look as professional as possible.


	21. Don't Dream It's Over

Dean tried not to speed as we drove to the station.

"Maybe another body's turned up," Dean muttered.

"I hope not," I said and didn't want to think about seeing a second mutilated corpse in the coroner's office.

Dean parked the Impala and jumped out. He paused to smooth the wrinkles in his suit and then took off toward the station building, taking long strides.

I followed Dean at a slower pace, somewhat behind him.

When we stepped inside I noticed the station was strangely quiet. Cops who were not bustling around paused to stare at Dean and I.

We flashed our badges and made our way to the Lieutenant's office.

Dean knocked softly on the door.

"Enter," the Lieutenant's voice beckoned and we complied.

"Please, close the door," she said and I pushed the door shut behind me.

"We drove here as fast as possible, Lieutenant," I said.

I could see by her body language that she was angry or upset. She didn't sit but stood behind her desk with her hands flat upon the desk's top. She was looking right at Dean and I.

"Your services will no longer be needed," Lieutenant Crabbe said through clenched teeth.

"What? Why?" Dean asked. I noticed she had not ended the sentence with 'agents'.

"You two are not really from the FBI," The Lieutenant began but Dean started to interrupt.

"We can explain-" he started but she raised a hand.

"I know you are not because two real agents arrived this morning from Quantico and seemed very surprised that there were already a couple of agents on the case," Lieutenant said, slowly as though trying to keep her anger in check.

"When I told them your names they informed me that no such agents exist," she continued.

"Please, Gloria, give us a chance to explain," Dean pleaded.

"I don't know what games you two are playing at. I don't know what kind of sick entertainment you're getting from this," Lieutenant Crabbe said.

"We're trying to help you," I said.

"I don't want to hear it!" the Lieutenant snapped.

"I should be arresting you on the spot for impersonating federal officers… but I am not going to," Lieutenant Crabbe said.

"Leave Lafayette, get out of Louisiana," she said.

"The thing that killed Thom Zimmerman wasn't human Lieutenant," I tried.

The Lieutenant laughed humorlessly.

"Leave this investigation to the professionals and get out of my city," she said coldly.

Dean and I stood as if frozen.

"Get out! Get out!" the Lieutenant screeched.

I turned and flung the door open in my haste to leave the Lieutenant before she really did decide to arrest us.

Dean and I practically ran to the Impala, past stunned police officers, away from the enraged Lieutenant.

Dean and I didn't speak until we got to the motel room and then once there we waited a while longer. I don't think either of us really knew what to say- we had never had that reaction before.

I sat down on my bed and Dean leaned against the table, he loosened his tie and threw it on his bed, he slipped his shoes off and slid his jacket off his shoulders to drape it over one arm.

"I think that went quite well, don't you?" Dean said with a goofy smile.

I just groaned in response and lay back on the bed and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.

"We don't need Crabbe's permission to work this case," Dean said.

"I know that!" I exclaimed.

"It's just… I don't want to do this, I thought we were done," I muttered.

"I want this to be over," I sighed.

"So do I, Sam, and it will be as soon as we kill Phobetor and deal with Jonah," Dean answered even though I had not been looking for one.

As I lay on the bed I could hear Dean punching a number into his phone:

"Hey, Bobby, it's Dean," my brother said.

My brother paused as the old hunter spoke.

"We've made contact at least, well, Sam has, anyway," Dean said.

"Dunno," Dean said, "Sam said he's made out of sand."

I heard Dean as he turned, probably to face me. I wasn't looking; I still had my hands at my eyes.

"What exactly did he look like?" Dean asked for Bobby.

"He was as tall as me… he had a, uh, black coat- a long one, like a duster- and a fedora…" I muttered.

"I don't care about his fashion sense," Dean grumbled.

"He has red eyes and small sharp teeth… like needles and claws on his fingers," I said. I wasn't in the mood to fight with Dean.

Dean repeated my description to Bobby.

"See what you can dig up and hopefully we'll be able be able to kill this bastard," Dean said and I heard his cell phone snap closed.

"Well, what do you want to do now?" Dean asked.

"We need to figure out how to kill Phobetor as soon as possible," I said.

Or I am likely to wind up next on the menu, I thought.

"That stake should work Sam, he's just a god, like the others we've faced before," Dean said.

"Why don't you tell me then, how I'm supposed to get that stake," I pointed at the weapon that was leaning against the wall beside the TV stand, out of sight of the door and window, "into Dreamland and kill Phobetor with it."

"Lucid dreaming? You know, manipulate your dream and get a stake or something," Dean suggested.

"He's made out of sand though, the stake may not even work, the thing could just go right through him," I muttered.

"Okay, how do you kill something made entirely of sand?" Dean asked.

I lowered my hands to my sides and stared at the ceiling.

Sand, of course, is made up of billions upon billions of tiny bits of rock and minerals that had been eroded to their small size over millions of years.

I knew we wouldn't be able to use any conventional monster-killing techniques on the Greek god. A bullet or a blade would pass right through Phobetor's body without causing harm.

I really didn't even think a stake would kill him, like it did the other gods Dean and I had encountered.

"Maybe he's like a demon and you can exorcise him," Dean suggested.

I grunted noncommittally.

"It could be worth a try," Dean continued.

"I don't want to piss him off Dean," I said.

Dean and I tossed around ideas for a couple of hours. I washed my pills down with the last bit of coffee in my cup. Dean paused to take a quick shower and fold his suit neatly away since he wouldn't need to use it again. He sat on his bed, eating the last of the pretzels from the night before since I had left the coffee shop without breakfast.

We paused to eat lunch. Or, Dean ate and I just ordered a beer.

"I'm not hungry," I told my brother as he ate his hamburger.

"C'mon Sam," Dean said, "Eat something."

"Later," I muttered.

Dean looked at me worriedly. He didn't say anything but I knew that he'd get me to eat eventually.

I stared out the window and tried to think about how possibly, in a dream, I could kill something made of sand.

Water wouldn't work- if Phobetor washed away I was pretty sure he'd be able to reform himself eventually.

I looked at the beer bottle in my hand, turning it over, watching sunlight reflect on its clear brown glass.

Hold on! I thought, glass is made out of sand. Maybe I could make a bomb that would be hot enough to melt Phobetor into glass and then shatter the son of a bitch into a million pieces.

That might kill him, I thought. But I wanted something that would destroy the god forever.

I noticed that Dean was watching me. I was still holding the beer bottle, not even paying attention to what I was doing.

"You've got that look on your face you always get before you stand up and shout 'Eureka'!" Dean said.

I nodded, "a bomb could work."

"A bomb? What like a pipe bomb?" Dean asked. We both knew how to make those.

I shook my head, "something bigger."

I paused as a couple of people walked past us on their way out, talking.

"… and this guy's going to blow up this entire city with a 'nuke…" a boy probably only one or two years younger than Ben said excitedly to an older woman who was obviously his mother.

"Honestly, Cory, I don't know about that junk you watch on TV…" the woman said, her voice drifted away as they left the restaurant.

"Whoa Sam, hold on a minute," Dean exclaimed when he saw the expression on my face.

"Dean, it makes sense, the radiation released by a nuclear bomb heats up the surrounding material to an equilibrium temperature so that the matter will be the same temperature as the matter in the bomb! The materials surrounding the bomb will vaporize!" I exclaimed.

Dean shook his head, "how are you going to blow up Phobetor? I don't think even you know how to make an atom bomb."

"It's a dream, Dean, and anything can happen in dreams," I said. Taking into account Dean's earlier comment about lucid dreams.

Dean looked extremely skeptical.

"Look, I'll be asleep but we can time it so you can wake me up before the bomb goes off and I'll be fine," I said. I thought that if I was awake before the bomb exploded and not in a nightmare, I'd escape the blast.

"I don't like your kamikaze tendencies, lately," Dean said seriously.

I scowled at Dean. It wasn't like I would have the bomb strapped to my chest or something.

"You figure out a way to kill him then, Dean," I challenged.

"I still think the stake will work, you know, old reliable, less suicidal ways of killing monsters… you remember those, don't you?" Dean said.

"I will be perfectly safe," I assured Dean. Of course I wasn't going to go the way of the suicide bomber- I didn't want to die; I wanted to see my wife and children again.

"Okay," Dean said, "let's just scope out the area first before we make any decisions," Dean said, "I think you should try the stake first and then if that doesn't work, you can blow Phobetor to smithereens."

"Alright," I said. I could live with that. Besides, the thing I didn't tell Dean was that I wasn't sure if I'd even be any condition to make a bomb if Phobetor was true to his word and I ended up becoming trapped in a nightmare of Hell.

When we got back to the motel I called Sarah to ask how she was doing.

Her phone rang three times before she answered.

"Hey, Sarah," I said before she could speak.

"Hi Sam," Sarah said. She sounded a little distracted.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing, I just put Aaron and Faith down for a nap," Sarah answered.

I paused.

"What did you do this morning?"

"Tanya and I took the kids to the park for a couple of hours and then Percy came over-" Sarah began but I interrupted.

"Percy? You don't mean Percy Upton your old neighbor?" I asked.

"Yes, well, he's a friend of Tanya's, Sam," Sarah said in a guarded voice.

"Did he say anything to you about us?" I asked. I don't even know why I was asking- I didn't care what the little snot thought.

"Well, he was surprised to say the least," Sarah said.

I thought I heard something in Sarah's voice but I couldn't tell what it was.

"He's really matured a lot actually since you first met him," Sarah informed me.

"Uh huh," I said skeptically.

I watched as Dean went over to the mini fridge and pulled out a beer, offered it to me and then got one for himself.

"I shouldn't be gone for much longer, everything might even be okay before the beginning of August," I answered. It was only the end of the second week of July but if we could kill Phobetor quickly we'd be able to focus on Jonah and then head home.

Sarah chuckled, "I think Percy has a crush on Tanya now, in fact."

"Hm," I said and gulped down some beer.

I could just imagine Upton following Sarah around like a puppy, even now that she was married and had two young children. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who would take 'I'm happily married' for an answer.

"Sam, are you alright?" Sarah asked. Concern in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah," I answered and had some more beer.

"Listen, I have to go but I look forward to hearing from you later," Sarah said, once again distractions clear in her voice.

"I love you Sarah," I said first.

"Love you," Sarah said and hung up.

I closed my phone and put it in the pocket of my jeans.

Dean didn't say anything but looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

"Sarah seems to be having a good time," I said.

"What kind of a 'good time'?" Dean asked.

"She's showing the kids all the sights and I think she likes seeing all her friends from New York again," I answered nonchalantly.

"And Percy Upton, right?" Dean said.

I frowned. I was sure Percy was harmless, an annoying little prick, but harmless all the same. I was sure that Sarah was speaking the truth and her distraction only came from the stress of me being away, not knowing when I would come home and tell her she was safe.

I finished my beer, lost in thought before I spoke again.

"Dean… do you ever worry that Lisa might, you know, cheat on you?" I asked my brother.

Dean looked surprised I would ask, "I don't think she'd sleep with Dwayne Johnson if she had the chance."

I let out a small chuckle.

"Sam, Lisa's practically paranoid that I'm going to leave one day so I don't think she'd ever have an affair because she's probably thinking that I would leave if she did," Dean continued.

I nodded, "yeah."

Dean seemed to be the perfect husband and father. He went to every one of Ben's baseball games; he took S.J. to the park every other day and he was always there when Lisa needed him. Dean was the rock in his family. He had taken the stability and will he had exhibited as a hunter and transferred that to family-life. He hardly showed weakness.

Me on the other hand, I was the opposite of my brother. I tried to be strong; really I did but some days I just couldn't be that. Sarah was often the one to look out for me, especially when I was particularly stressed and the PTSD symptoms flared up. Sometimes it felt as if I wasn't so much Sarah's husband as a thorn in her side. Of course Sarah would roll with the punches and get that determined look on her face that I had come to know so well. I still couldn't help but think, though, if she ever regretted, even for a second, marrying me. Perhaps she thought, like Dean had, that the memories of Hell would subside and she'd have a normal husband like other wives did.

"Sam, you don't think…not Sarah," Dean said, as though reading my thoughts.

I shrugged with some sadness, "We both know I'm not the greatest husband."

"C'mon Sam, Sarah loves you," Dean said.

"Dean, the PTSD…" I said.

"So it's just an obstacle, lots of couples have those and they get over them. I know that Sarah loves you and that she'd do anything for you," Dean commented.

I nodded. I knew Dean was confident that Sarah was faithful but I couldn't help but feel a sliver of doubt grow in the back of my mind.

Dean turned from his serious demeanor, which he apparently couldn't keep up for long, and grinned, "besides, you're a catch. Who else has a husband who knows how to kill vampires or exorcise demons or has angels for friends?"

I shook my head, a smile on my lips despite myself.

That evening Dean and I stuck close to the motel. We ordered pizza for dinner but I didn't eat much- I was too distracted.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I thought.

Dean finished the pizza without a word but grabbed the bag of M&Ms from the table and tossed them onto my lap.

I was tired but I didn't want to go to sleep. I was genuinely afraid to close my eyes- a feeling I rarely had since first returning from Hell.

I knew I would need to sleep sometime and face Phobetor and whatever he threw at me but… not yet.

It grew steadily later. I had only eaten one or two handfuls of the candy and then put the bag aside.

"Please wake me up if anything happens," I told Dean as I lay down on my bed, still fully clothed in jeans and the black t-shirt from the day before.

Dean nodded, turned out the lights but kept the television on low volume while he watched some movie.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax, to calm down and breathe evenly.

I could hear the murmur of voiced from the TV and my brother's breathing.

Just wake up before it gets too bad, I thought, you can do it. It's just a dream, it can't hurt you, I told myself.

No, a voice assured me, but Phobetor certainly can. And he will.

I tried to imagine I was back home in Montana, sleeping in my own bed with my son and daughter just down the hall, Sarah reading maybe, in the living room downstairs or checking in on Aaron or Faith. I imagined I could hear the almost unceasing background buzzing of crickets outside.

I felt my breathing begin to ease and my muscles relaxed. My mind shut out all external sounds and I was on the fringe of sleep, everything a warm, dull grey cocoon…

… I looked around in terror but all I could see was darkness. I could see nothing before me except an all-encompassing darkness.

I closed my eyes and prayed I was having a nightmare and that I would wake up. I prayed that when I opened my eyes I would be in some no-star motel room and I would see Dean grinning at me, his mouth curled in a smirk and some joke on his lips.

But of course when I did open my eyes again all I saw was that darkness. I knew that I was in a waking nightmare. I knew that I was in Hell. In Lucifer's prison.

I was paralyzed, unable to move, to flee from what I know was coming.

I could feel my heart racing in my chest and my blood pounding in my ears.

Sweat poured down my face and back, my hair sopping wet.

My body went rigid with fear when I felt a presence approach.

It was a presence I knew well- it was Lucifer.

My breath came out in shallow gasps, my eyes wide in a futile attempt to see in the pitch blackness.

"Please," I begged, shaking with dread.

"You could have had it all, Sam. You could have had the world," Lucifer spoke in the darkness, his voice calm.

"Don't… please…" I continued, trying to ignore the fallen angel's words.

"You could have been powerful," Lucifer said.

I whimpered in fear.

"But you chose to be weak," Lucifer accused, still sounding almost disinterested.

I was waiting in panicked anticipation for the pain I knew was going to come.

"You gave into human frailty, Sam," Lucifer admonished, "I thought better of you, I really did."

I gasped as agony engulfed my body. I writhed in pain and shouted although I knew my cries fell on deaf ears.

The pain stopped and I slumped, panting.

Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging, insignificant compared to the pain I had just experienced.

"You had to take The Leap, didn't you? You couldn't have just been complacent, could you?" Lucifer asked.

I didn't answer.

I bowed my head, my chin almost on my chest. I didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore.

"I lost because of you, Sam Winchester. One inconsequential little human got the better of me," Lucifer chuckled to himself almost as if he couldn't believe it.

I muttered something unintelligible, even to myself.

"I would have destroyed all those filthy humans you worked so hard to save, Sam. I would have shown my brethren and our Father what you humans really are," Lucifer continued.

"I can't understand why you would sacrifice yourself to protect them from me. All of those murderers and rapists and child molesters and everything else even you humans abhor about your own species- allowed to go on living and making a mockery of the Free Will you were given," Lucifer said as though he truly wanted me to answer his question. Why had I allowed the worst of the worst to continue on oblivious that their doom had been so close?

"They're not all bad, Lucifer, despite what you may think," I answered.

"Ah, Sam, it is the greatest good to the greatest number of people which is the measure of right and wrong," Lucifer smirked in the darkness.

I closed my eyes again.

"No matter, no matter. I may have lost my chance for the Apocalypse but I still have a consolation prize," Lucifer grinned.

Agony tore at my limbs. It seemed relentless, endless. I knew it would never end. Lucifer would never let me rest; he would always be there, to remind me of what I had done.

Eventually the pain disappeared and Lucifer's presence vanished.

The pain was not constant. Lucifer wished to torment me not only with physical pain but with psychological and emotional torture as well.

I knew he was trying to break me. I ground my teeth and tried to remind myself that I had done the only thing that could be done to prevent the Apocalypse and stop Lucifer dead in his tracks.

Despite the fact that millions of good people were alive because of what I had done, I felt no better. I did not feel heroic or courageous especially when I was in so much pain I cried.

I looked around in the darkness with dull eyes. My limbs trembled from pain and weakness.

A great loneliness had taken hold of me and I thought that, more than anything would crush my will.

I lifted my head slightly and in the darkness called out for my brother.

"Dean!" My voice sounded plaintive in the vast darkness.

"Dean," I whispered to myself. I knew that I would never see my brother again and that filled me with a profound sadness.

I glanced around when I sensed another presence, coming nearer and nearer. It wasn't Lucifer but its malignance seeped from it like a vile sludge.

I realized that this was a demon!

"Sam," the demon said and my heart leapt into my throat as I recognized this monster.

It was my brother! It was Dean!

"No," I moaned in misery.

"Yes," the demon hissed.

"This isn't you Dean," I said, "you're not evil."

The demon just chuckled at my attempt to reach its human side that had long since been erased.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"You called," the demon said matter-of-factly.

I shook my head in disbelief. Dean couldn't be a demon. I was sure that if and when he died Cas would make sure he went Upstairs.

I felt sick to my stomach.

"Look at you Sam," the demon said.

I said nothing.

"You really are taking a beating," the demon who had once been my brother, continued.

"I only wish I could have joined the party," the demon spoke almost wistfully.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted and my voice echoed.

The demon chuckled, "you really are up shit creek without a paddle this time, aren't you Sammy?"

I flinched when the demon called me by my nickname.

"You're trapped here. Forever," the demon said with finality.

"How does it feel to know that for all eternity you are destined to remain here? With Lucifer- who doesn't seem like he's going to get tired of torturing you anytime soon. I wouldn't hold my breath if I was you," the demon continued.

"At least I'm still human!" I snapped.

The demon did not seem at all offended.

"I may not be human any more, little brother, but at least I am not Lucifer's punching-bag," the demon smiled.

I lowered my head.

I knew the demon would not leave without tormenting me but I didn't really care. If it wasn't the demon, it would be Lucifer.

"You're making this too easy," the demon chided.

I closed my eyes and waited for the pain.

I cried out as agony ripped into my body- thousands of shards of glass seemed to tear at my flesh as though to strip it from my bones.

I panted and begged and cried but the demon would not stop.

My heart was pounding as if it was going to burst.

The agony seemed to sap the strength from my limbs and I shook violently.

All I could hear was the demon laughing, laughing in Dean's voice…

SPN

I tried to stay awake, I really did but it grew later and later, or earlier because when I woke with a start a quick glance at the clock showed that it was a quarter to four in the morning.

I was lying on my back on my bed, the TV remote still in one limp hand.

I sat up and rubbed my face, wondering what had woke me up.

I turned off the television- it was some infomercial selling some sort of vacuum cleaner and looked over at my brother's sleeping form.

Sam was lying curled on his side, tangled in the bed sheets. Both of the pillows were on the floor. I stood and crept closer. I saw that his t-shirt was dark with moisture and his hair was damp- there was a sheen of sweat on his face even though the A/C was on.

Sam's breath was fast-paced and came in short bursts, as though he engaged in some physical activity- running a marathon maybe- even though he was asleep.

I frowned- this was exactly how Sam had slept when he had first been brought back from Hell and had been staying with Lisa and Ben and I.

I was about to go sit down on my own bed when Sam's eyes snapped open and he cried out. I jumped and practically shouted his name.

Sam curled even tighter and shook. I was pretty sure he was fully awake though.

"Sam!" I said and moved to his side with urgency.

His eyes were squeezed shut and he was talking but his words were coming out so fast they all jumbled together I couldn't understand him.

"Sammy," I touched my brother's shoulder and Sam flinched away from me.

His eyes opened and I saw they were glazed with pain. The haunted look in them came to the forefront.

"Don't touch me!" Sam said and swiped a hand at me.

I took hold of my brother's arm and held it down.

"Sam, it's okay. It was a nightmare, you're safe, okay? Just calm down, take deep breaths," I instructed.

Sam struggled against me for a moment and then relaxed; his body went from being rigid to slack in seconds.

I moved away and filled one of the plastic cups the motel provided with water and handed it out to my brother as I sat down on his bed.

Sam sat up and raked a hand through his hair- his bangs flopped onto his forehead and stuck there with sweat.

Sam took the cup gratefully and gulped down some of the water.

I reached up and gripped his shoulder comfortingly.

"It was about Hell," Sam said. I could have guessed that, judging from his reaction upon waking up but only nodded.

"Do you… do you want to talk about it?" I asked tentatively.

Sam shook his head, "Phobetor was just trying to scare me."

He drank the last of the water and set the cup on the night stand in between the beds.

"Why don't you take a shower?" I said, "It'll make you feel better."

"Okay," Sam agreed, stood and grabbed some clothes that had already been worn this week and closed the bathroom door behind him.

We should get to the Laundromat today, I thought as I pawed through my own dwindling supply of clean clothes. In the rush to get to Bobby's neither Sam nor I had packed a lot of clothing.

Sam was in the shower for nearly half an hour but I didn't mind. I thought that standing under the hot spray of the showerhead would do him some good.

I was worried about Sam, with the PTSD he already had nightmares but now that Phobetor had apparently targeted Sam there was no telling what fears the Greek god would dredge up, what memories he would play with to suit his own purposes, not that some of Sam's memories, especially the ones he had of this time in Lucifer's Cage weren't particularly nice, but still…

I wished silently that Phobetor had decided to attack me instead. I remembered my time in Hell, of course I did, how could I forget? At least I could handle them; they didn't consume my sleeping mind as Sam's did his. Besides, there were other things I feared more than Hell- flying was a big one that the god could easily take advantage of. Anyway, I didn't really fear Hell, it had happened and it had been awful but I wasn't afraid of the memories or the thought that I might one day end up there or something.

I looked up, my thoughts stopping as I saw Sam. He looked better for his shower. His hair was damp from the water, not sweat and his long-sleeved brown shirt and jeans looked pretty clean. His eyes were dark with that permanent haunted look though but at least I didn't see any pain in them anymore.

Since it was still far too early for any decent person to be awake, I laid back down on my bed and tried to get a few more hours of sleep in.

When I woke next, the alarm read eight o'clock. I sat up and smoothed the wrinkles from my shirt as best I could.

Sam was sitting on the end of his bed, fiddling with his wedding band, twisting it on his finger, a silver flash every couple of seconds.

When he saw me watching, Sam dropped his hands to his sides.

I stood and yawned, stretched and made my way to the sink to brush my teeth.

I decided that we could take it easy today, there wasn't much we could do anyway until Sam went to sleep again and either had a nightmare or a meeting with Phobetor.

Once my morning grooming was done I turned to my brother.

"Let's go to the Laundromat," I said and stuffed all my dirty clothes into my duffel bag.

"Sure," Sam answered and copied my gesture.

We drove around, found a coffee shop and got ourselves something to drink, then made a bee-line to the nearest Laundromat.

The place was tiny and deserted. It smelled of soap and warm clothes. The floors were yellowing linoleum; the walls were a beige colour that had accumulated stains and scuffs over the years. Besides Sam and myself, the only other patron was an elderly Chinese woman who sat on one of the plastic chairs provided, knitting something that looked like a scarf while her clothes spun around and around in a dryer.

There were a half dozen washers and dryers but it wasn't like Sam and I were in much of a hurry to get back to the motel so we could just sit and twiddle our thumbs.

I dumped my clothes on top of a washing machine and began sorting them into piles: whites, darks, jeans, coloured, and reds.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I put some money into the slot and put my jeans in the machine.

"What?" Sam asked. It had been a while since he had spoken at all; I thought he might be thinking about the nightmare he had had so I didn't bother him.

I shook my head but answered, "I'm just thinking about the first time Lisa saw me doing the laundry. She had been out grocery shopping and I decided to do something nice for her so I took all the clothes from their hampers and sorted them and started the laundry. When Lisa heard the machine going and I told her I had started it, she looked like she expected all the clothes to come out pink or splotched with bleach or something. She had been impressed- she said she'd never had any man in her life would could do laundry to save his life- her own father included. I told her that you were screwed if you were a hunter and couldn't do laundry- it's kind of a necessity what with getting covered in blood or dirt on a regular basis."

Sam smiled. He leaned against the washing machine that shook slightly as it cleaned his clothes.

"Don't worry Sam, we'll defeat Phobetor," I said.

"I know," Sam answered, "I just thought we were through with hunting- that's all."

"I guess we're going for our victory lap then," I said with a grin.

Sam looked at me, rolled his eyes and took a drink of his coffee.

My stomach grumbled audibly and I wished we had grabbed something to eat while we had been at the shop.

I jumped when I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket and the ring tone go off.

Fishing the phone out, I glanced at the caller and flipped it open.

"Please tell us you have something, Bobby," I said without a greeting.

"Sorry boy, but I've come up with Jack Shit. Oh, I found a lot of stuff on Phobetor and his siblings but nothing that's of particular use to anyone other than a Greek mythology buff," Bobby said.

"Really?" I asked, not that I thought that Bobby would lie but I just wanted there to be some sure way to kill the son of a bitch.

"I looked everywhere I could think of," Bobby apologized, "even called up a couple of professor friends but they were at a loss as to come up with how to kill Phobetor."

"What about Greek gods in general? How did they die?" I pressed.

"No mortal man could kill them, just another god," Bobby said.

I sighed.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked, suspicious that I wasn't telling him something important.

"Sam had a nightmare," I answered.

"And?" Bobby asked.

"It was bad, I don't know- he didn't want to talk about it- but you know with Sam's PTSD and all that- Phobetor probably was screwing around with his memories of Hell or some shit," I said. Sam was only feet away from me but he didn't seem to mind that I was talking about him with Bobby- if we were not in public I would have put the old hunter on speaker-phone and Sam could be telling Bobby this stuff himself.

"How are you planning on killing Phobetor? Come up with any bright ideas yet? Still think a stake will work?" Bobby asked.

I hesitated.

"Sam thinks he can blow Phobetor up with a nuclear bomb- he says it'll vaporize the bastard," I answered slowly and waited for Bobby's reaction.

"Give your brother the phone," Bobby said in a deadly voice.

I complied and handed my phone to Sam.

"Bobby?" Sam said and then he was cut off as the old hunter began yelling at him.

Sam scrunched his face up and held the phone away from his ear.

"B- Bobby, listen-" Sam tried but he was interrupted again.

I could only watch as Sam attempted to speak to the old hunter but he wasn't able to get a word in edge-wise.

After what must have been five long minutes Sam held the phone out to me, his face expressionless.

"You didn't have to go and tear a strip off him Bobby," I said.

"He's thinking about blowing himself up Dean!" Bobby said forcibly.

"We have it all planned out Bobby. Sam's gonna wake up before the bomb goes off," I assured the old hunter.

"How do you know Dean? How do you know it's gonna work?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know. I just have to trust Sam's judgment I guess," I answered.

"You two boys are all I have and I don't want to see anything happen to ya," Bobby said softly, "when you two went off to Alaska… I felt like I was losing my sons."

I took a deep breath. I had never heard Bobby actually say that he thought of Sam and I as his sons before.

"Just make sure the both of ya come back in one piece," Bobby ordered.

"Don't worry, Bobby, I'll make sure you see us again," I answered.

It wasn't only Bobby who would be crushed if anything happened to Sam and I, there were our families as well. They were the reason we were on this hunt in the first place- we were trying to protect them from Jonah.

I closed my phone and put it back in my pocket.

Sam's laundry had finished washing and he now bent down to gather it to take it to one of the dryers.

I couldn't see my brother's face but his back and shoulders were tense and I thought maybe Bobby had something to do with that.

"You okay?" I asked once Sam had returned and put another load of clothes in the washer.

Sam nodded, his expression still unreadable.

"Bobby shouldn't have chewed you out like that," I said, "you're just trying to find a way to kill Phobetor."

"Yeah," Sam muttered and didn't speak the rest of the time we were in the Laundromat.

Whatever Bobby had said, yelled at Sam had definitely hit a nerve.

When Sam and I got back to the motel we just sort of hung around for the rest of the day. There was really nothing either of us could do until night fell and Sam went to sleep again. We were on Phobetor's time now and I didn't like that idea very much.

I normally am a pretty patient guy, even when I was on a hunt I didn't mind staking out some beastie's position for hours on end but not with this one. I think it was because I wasn't really involved with it. All I could do was stand back and watch and support my brother- it made me feel useless and vulnerable- it reminded me of the year Sam had mysteriously been brought back from Hell and I was unable to help him.

I turned on the TV and surfed aimlessly through the channels, not planning on watching anything anyway, before I stood up and told Sam I would be back in a half an hour or so.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, confused.

We had practically just stepped in the door and here I was on my way out again.

"I'm going to get some supplies," I said and grabbed the keys to the Impala and walked outside.

Sam didn't say anything. He knew 'getting supplies' meant 'I need some time by myself to think.'

I got into the Impala and turned on the radio: 'Night Prowler' came blaring out of the speakers as I exited the parking lot and drove down the road, obeying the speed limit for once. I drove to the nearest grocery store and picked up a case of bottled water, then went down the junk food aisle and grabbed a couple of bags of chips, pretzels and a bag of 'Twizzlers' licorice.

I stood in a long line for the cash register- the 'One to Eight Items' check-out was unfortunately closed. Slowly the line moved forward- I was behind some old man holding four bushels of bananas and a case of vanilla Ensure and a young woman juggling a baby on one arm and a bag of diapers, six jars of baby food and a copy of People Magazine in the other. I sighed as the customers inched forward. I glanced at my watch and saw that I had only been gone for twenty minutes.

After what seemed like ten minutes later I sidled up to the cashier and she punched in my purchases with a bored expression. She had one long red braid over her shoulder and green eyes accented by greener eye shadow. I was reminded uneasily of the young red-headed girl Lucifer had possessed two years ago when Sam and I went to Alaska and couldn't help but wonder if she and the cashier were related, sisters perhaps.

I gave the girl the money and told her to keep the change. I walked out still thinking about her.

C'mon Dean, that was nearly three years ago and that poor girl could have come from anywhere, I told myself as I set the groceries in the passenger side of the Impala and go into the driver's seat.

What would you do if she was that girl's sister? What would you say to her?

I shook my head. I couldn't go the rest of my life wondering if every girl with red hair was related to that girl in Alaska. I just felt bad that I hadn't gone to her family and said something, anything- then again, maybe it was better for them to believe their daughter had been kidnapped instead of the truth.

At least I could give them closure, I thought as I started the engine. As far as they knew- the people who had taken their daughter was still out there.

I drove back to the motel slowly, still thinking obsessively about that girl. I felt guilty about her death even though I had nothing do with it.

If we had stopped Lucifer the first time, she'd still be alive, I thought.

If we had stopped Lucifer the first time, Sam would still be in Hell; I reminded myself and regretted my earlier musing.

I sighed, "Why bother worrying about things you can't change, Dean?"

I parked the car in its designated spot and grabbed the groceries. I stepped to the door of the motel and opened it. Sam wasn't inside.

I felt a moment of panic before I saw a scrap of paper on the table with my brother's distinct, almost flowing writing scrawled on it- 'Took a walk. Back in 10.'

I shrugged and broke open the plastic holding the bottles of water in place. I put as many as would fit in the mini fridge and set the rest, still in the cardboard container, atop the long dresser that sat against on wall. I left the food in the grocery bag and moved it to the table.

With nothing to occupy myself with until Sam returned I saw his laptop sitting on top of his duffel bag and grabbed it. I opened the computer and smiled when I saw that I needed a password to get in. I could get onto Sam's computer fine, I knew the correct password but if I was going to try and snoop around at his stuff I would have more difficulty.

Good thing I wasn't trying to hack into his files then. I brought up the internet and typed a few keywords into the browser: 'Jensens Cemetery, Alaska', '2011' and 'Deaths'.

At first glance the results only showed a list of people who had died in 2011 and were buried in the cemetery but after some rearranging of the key words- adding new ones or taking one or two away I found what I was looking for.

'Jensens Cemetery: The Scene of Horror' the first newspaper's headline read.

I scanned the article and it explained how two young men and one young woman had been found in dire condition in the cemetery on the morning of November second of 2011. The article described what the paramedics had found upon arriving at the cemetery: three people severely under-dressed for the winter weather in Alaska and in serious conditions. I scanned through the article until I found what I was looking for:

I paused. I had a name now. Marcie Gables.

I pulled up another browser tab and typed the girl's name into the search engine. After a little bit of navigation I found out that Marcie Gables had indeed lived in Louisiana- Lafayette to be exact and she was survived by her parents, Hector and Claudia and her twin sister, May.

I gulped and looked at the photo of Marcie; it had to be a high school picture. She was wearing a white uniform shirt for a Catholic school. Her curly red hair puffed out around her face like a mane and her green eyes were crinkled at the edges with her smile. I could count all the freckles on her face if I wanted to. The paragraph at the bottom said that she had been on her school's Honour Role and was one of the school's top achievers. She had been a member of the Photography Club and the Humanitarian Committee and the Prayer Group at her school. From all appearances she seemed like she had been a happy sixteen-year old high school student- one of the few- so another thing that bothered me was why then would she allow herself to be possessed by Lucifer?

I was just about to do some more searching when the motel room door opened and Sam stepped inside.

I exited all the browsers and closed his laptop, trying not to look guilty.

"Hey," Sam said, he seemed surprised to see me back already.

"Hi," I said and stood.

"What were you doing?" Sam asked, not suspiciously or accusingly, more out of curiosity.

"Ah, just checking out the news in Indiana," I lied.

Sam nodded.

There was an awkward pause for a moment and then Sam spoke, "what'd you get?"

"Some water, and some snacks," I answered and moved to the table and pulled the chips, pretzels and licorice out of the bag to show my brother.

Sam just rolled his eyes and gave a slight smile. He looked tired though, I noticed.

"Maybe you should take a nap or something," I said as casually as I could.

"Nah, I'm fine," Sam waved away the offer.

"So, uh, what did Bobby yell at you about?" I asked. I wasn't sure Sam would tell me but I wanted to get my thoughts off of Marcie.

Now that I knew she was from this city I was tempted to go drive past her family's house- if they still lived there, anyway.

But what are you going to do? I asked myself, offer your condolences? Tell her parents and sister what really happened? Ask them personal questions about their daughter to try and figure out why she did what she did? Why? It doesn't matter anymore, she'd dead.

Sam hesitated and then spoke, "he accused me of having a death wish."

I chuckled, "yeah, you're a real Charlie Bronson if I ever saw one."

Sam shrugged.

"Look, you know he didn't mean it right?" I said.

"Yeah,' Sam muttered.

"He's like Dad was," I continued, "he can be a real hard-ass but he cares about you."

Sam nodded. There were a lot of times when Dad was less than kind, or so it had seemed to Sam, surely, but I knew that he was just trying to protect his youngest son.

"Bobby's not gonna stay angry at you for long," I offered.

I thought back to that day when Sam and I had gone to Alaska and Bobby had abandoned his gruff hunter's façade and had spoken to my brother with a sensitivity I had rarely seen before.

"I know," Sam said, "it's just…"

Sam paused and didn't continue.

Maybe Bobby's words had hurt Sam more than I thought they had. I knew my brother could be emotional sometimes but I didn't think he was that bad.

I raised an eyebrow and waited but Sam wasn't going to speak again.

I grew a little worried and spoke, "Sammy?"

Sam looked at me almost as though he had forgotten I was in the room with him.

"It was kind of difficult, you know, to hear that from Bobby," Sam answered, covering up his over-long pause.

I nodded and turned on the TV and settled in for a long afternoon.

SPN

I hadn't told Dean everything Bobby had said to me. While he was busy yelling at me, the old hunter had said that I didn't know how hard Dean had worked to save me while I had been in a coma. I had no idea what that meant and Bobby was too incensed to explain.

I was hesitant to ask Dean about it because I had a feeling Bobby had let it slip. I had just shrugged it off and chalked it up to my brother getting the doctors to do anything and everything they could to revive me again. I knew that Dean wouldn't take 'there's nothing else we can do for him' as an answer.

I was still stunned to think that I had survived the wound. When I had asked Sarah about it she didn't have an answer and after I spoke to Dean I only had a little better than that.

Dean had told me though, that Cas and Abdiel had had nothing to do with my miraculous survival. My brother seemed as shocked as I was that I hadn't died. That was what I prepared for- to the best of my knowledge, no one had ever lived after being stabbed with a Seraph Blade.

Now though, as I sat in the motel room, watching some random TV shows with Dean I couldn't help but think of what Bobby had said over the phone.

You think too much Sammy, Dean's voice said in my head, annoyingly.

Just drop it, I told myself, it means nothing.

Dean channel surfed at lightning speed until he stopped on a real-life medical drama about a man had apparently just woken up from a twenty-five year coma.

Dean took one look at the show and changed it.

He found an old war movie and stayed on that channel.

It didn't look so much like a movie as footage from the World Wars- there were mud-covered soldiers running out of trenches and fox holes, planes dropping bombs on London, some shots of concentration camps surrounded by barbed wire fences and search lights.

I tapped my fingers against my leg as I watched the pictures flash by- catching glimpses of the faces of soldiers, most of whom couldn't be any older than Dean or I, their faces drawn and pale (even in black-and-white or sepia), their eyes wide with fear or pain.

"Can you find something else?" I asked as casually as possible.

Dean looked at me.

"Wha-" he began but stopped, "hey, you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, just find something light-hearted, don't care what it is," I muttered.

Dean, instead of changing the channel, turned off the television altogether.

"Watch the TV Dean," I protested.

Dean stood and walked the few steps over to me and immediately put a hand to my forehead.

I pulled away, "what're you doing?"

I stood and walked to the bathroom and took a look at myself in the mirror. I don't know what I expected to see- I had dark circles under my eyes which made my face seem pale but I didn't see anything that would cause Dean to react like a nurse.

I exited the bathroom and scowled at my brother for over-reacting.

"What was that about?" I demanded.

"You just had that look on your face," Dean said.

"What look?" I asked in a softer voice when I heard the worry in my brother's.

Dean shrugged, "doesn't matter… you're okay, right?"

I walked over to Dean and sat down on the edge of my bed, "what did you see?"

"That, uh, faraway look you sometimes got when… when you were sick, you know, when you came back," Dean said quietly.

Oh, I thought and then nodded.

"I was just anxious for a moment," Dean confessed.

"I'm fine, Dean," I assured him.

Dean nodded.

"Turn the TV back on," I said but my brother shook his head.

"Nothing good on anyway," he paused as he grabbed his duffel bag and took a deck of cards out, "wanna play poker for potato chips?"

I couldn't help but smile and Dean grinned back at me, relieved that I was alright.

We played cards until we had emptied the bag of ripple potato chips Dean had bought. When we called it quits it was almost four thirty in the afternoon.

"You hungry yet?" I asked my brother.

He had wolfed down his chips but I was sure he'd still be willing to eat.

Dean looked at me seriously, "only if you are."

I knew I hadn't been eating very much lately so I nodded. I just had no appetite, I don't know why, I guess it was stress.

Instead of going out we ordered Chinese and sat at the round table as we ate out of the white take-out boxes, using chopsticks awkwardly but still managing to get the food to our mouths.

When we finished, Dean glanced at me and I knew that like me, he was thinking about the last time we had scarfed down Chinese in a motel room- we had been in Albuquerque and that night I had told Dean what had happened to me while I had been trapped in the Cage with Lucifer.

I didn't say anything and neither did Dean. I wasn't sure what to say exactly.

After about five minutes Dean spoke up, "now all we need is Abdiel."

I wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny or not so I didn't react.

Dean sighed and rubbed his face with one hand.

"Dean…" I said and then paused.

My brother looked at me, unsure of what to do or say.

"That girl's family lives right here in Lafayette," Dean said before I could speak.

"What girl?" I asked.

"The one Lucifer possessed, the red-head," Dean clarified.

Ah, how could I forget? I thought and shuddered involuntarily.

"Okay," I said slowly.

"I think I want to go and see her family," Dean said.

"Why?" I asked, not out of any sort of aversion to the girl or her family but I didn't see a point in going.

"I don't know," Dean said, "I think I just want to let her family know her killer's not out there somewhere."

I gave Dean a surprised look, "you know you can't tell them the truth."

"I know, but still, I feel bad," Dean continued.

"You had nothing to do with it though," I said.

I felt guilty about the girl as well; she had died when she didn't have to. If things had gone the way they were supposed to have, Lucifer would have remained trapped in his Cage.

"Dean, I think you'll only add to her family's grief if you go over there," I said, rationally.

Dean sighed and nodded.

"You're right Sam," Dean said.

"Is that what you were doing on my computer earlier?" I asked.

"I saw this girl with red hair at the store and I couldn't help but think if she was related to the girl Lucifer possessed," Dean confessed.

"So I looked up the cemetery in Alaska and I found a couple of newspaper articles and got the girl's name from that," Dean finished.

"What was her name?" I wanted to know.

"Marcie. Marcie Gables," Dean answered.

I nodded and tried to picture Marcie Gables as a happy, average teenage girl and I could only envision her as I had seen her, Lucifer's puppet.

I shook my head as though to clear the image from my mind and sighed.

So much had occurred since Dean had shown up that night at Stanford to tell me Dad was missing, sometimes it became overwhelming to think it had really happened to me and not someone else. I felt a twinge of sadness when I thought of the last time I had seen Jessica before she was murdered. A thousand times I had asked myself if I had done the right thing by not telling Jess about my past, maybe if I had said something she would know what was out there and maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have died.

But then I knew I was fooling myself if I thought telling Jess the truth about monsters and demons and hunters would protect her. It felt like she had been marked for death the moment we had said 'hello' to one another in that lecture hall for first-year sociology.

Dozens of names raced through my head, some belonging to friend and some to foe, people we had helped, others we were too late to save. I recalled hundreds of cases and missions as if they had just ended yesterday. I thought of the times, over the years when Dean and I seemed almost inseparable and other times when we were at one another's throat- when we fought and it seemed like we'd never recover… but we always did, eventually.

I looked at Dean and saw that he was also lost in his own thoughts.

"Why do you think she did it?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Who? Marcie?" I asked.

"Yeah, why'd she agree?" Dean prompted.

"Lucifer lied. Whatever it was he said he'd do he lied to her," I said.

I knew that no one was likely to willingly agree to be possessed by Lucifer unless he knew something he could use as leverage.

"What was his angle though?" Dean continued, "I mean, what can make a happy teenage girl do something like that."

I shrugged. I didn't know and I was sure I didn't want to.

"She was part of some church group at her Catholic school so you'd think she…" Dean trailed off.

"You'd think she'd what? Dean, you know people, you've read the Bible, you've talked to Pastor Jim just like I have and if Lucifer says he's an angel either Marcie would think she's gone crazy or she's experiencing a miracle or something," I answered.

"I'd think about driving to the nearest loony-bin and booking myself a room," Dean muttered.

"Me too, but what about Jimmy?" I asked, using Cas's vessel as an example.

"Yeah, he actually believed Cas," Dean agreed, nodding.

"So it doesn't take a big stretch of the imagination to think that's what happened with Marcie," I confirmed.

"So what? Lucifer just appears to her, says he's an angel and starts telling her all this bull shit about how she has some grand purpose or something?" Dean said.

I shrugged. It was likely.

Dean still looked skeptical.

"I don't know Dean," I said, slightly exasperated.

"I know you don't, I don't expect you to," Dean held his hands up defensively.

I ran a hand through my hair.

"Okay, let's change the topic," Dean said, sensing my agitation.

By now I didn't feel like talking either way. I grabbed the TV remote and flicked through the channels, trying to find something I could pretend to watch.

At one in the morning Dean and I prepared to sleep. Before getting into bed, though, I set my alarm on my cell phone- a rather annoying beeping when activated- and set the phone on the night stand between the beds so that it was close to my head.

"What're you doing? The alarm clock not good enough?" Dean asked.

"I want to see if this will wake me up," I said, "so you can set it when I kill Phobetor."

Dean nodded grimly.

We turned out the lights and I heard my brother lay down on his bed.

I sat still for a moment and then lay on my back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling.

I tapped my fingers idly against the bed sheets, searching for sleep.

I was lying spread-eagle on the bed, a rather vulnerable position and not how I usually slept, especially since my return from Hell- I often slept on my side, curled up sometimes which made me feel more comfortable, safe, even though I knew Lucifer was dead… I don't know, I felt protected, even if it was only from the nightmarish memories that still plagued me.

I tried to relax, to allow the stiffness to leave my limbs, to let my muscles to go limp. I listened to Dean's slow, soft snoring and tried to imitate his breathing.

Minutes passed and I began to feel my eyelids grow heavy and my own breaths became even…

…I opened my eyes and found myself in that foggy, dimly lit region that Phobetor called home. I listened for any sound of the Greek god but heard nothing but for the sound of my own breathing. My eyes were wide against the scarce illumination and I turned a full 180 degrees in an attempt to make sure Phobetor had not snuck up on me.

I sighed with relief when I appeared to be alone.

I took a few steps forward and heard my sock and feet pad dully on whatever substance constituted as a floor or ground in this odd landscape. Curious, I crouched down and laid a hand, palm downward on the floor. It neither was cool nor warm to the touch and smooth as glass - a strange feeling.

I straightened and allowed myself to relax only the tiniest bit- I was well aware that Phobetor could appear at any time.

I continued walking, I wasn't afraid of this place and it didn't seem dangerous- wherever this land was it was better than being in a nightmare with some personal tweak thrown in by Phobetor just for good measure.

I don't know how long I walked before I heard the crying. I might have walked only a few feet or a dozen miles- either way there was no way of telling just how far I had gone from my original position.

The crying began as a distant sigh, almost like the sound of the wind but as I continued onward it grew high and keening, full of fear and sadness.

"Hello?" I called out and my voice echoed.

I was only answered by the cries.

I stopped walking and listened- there was something familiar in the sound.

I picked up the pace when I realized it sounded like a small child weeping.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" I called out again.

"I'm coming," I said.

I wasn't sure what I was moving towards- for all I knew it could be some trick of Phobetor but I could not ignore the sound.

Closer and closer, I followed the sound until I saw a small shape outlined in the curling fog before me.

I hunkered down a few feet from the shape and it resolved to reveal it was a young girl, dressed in purple pajamas, her legs pulled up to her chest and one cheek resting on her knees.

She had blonde hair that was tousled with sleep.

"Hello there," I said quietly, trying to make myself as small as possible, trying to not be imposing.

"What's your name?" I asked and inched forward a little bit.

The girl looked up at me. Her cheeks were wet with tears and snot dribbled down her face to her chin.

The little girl scooted backwards and whimpered.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. My name's Sam," I said, speaking softly and in a friendly and encouraging voice.

Inch by slow inch I came forward until I could reach out and touch the child.

She looked up at me with wide, light blue eyes.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" I asked quietly.

"S-Sh-Shelly," the girl said and wiped her face on her sleeve.

I smiled.

I reached out and laid a hand on her head. She moved away from my touch, still unsure of me.

"It's okay, I'm a friend," I assured her.

"Did- did the Bogeyman bring you here too?" Shelly asked.

I nodded.

That seemed to convince her and she moved close to me, she leaned her small body against me, looking for protection.

I sat down with my legs out before me and Shelly moved onto my lap. She sat with her chin on my shoulder. I could feel her jaw move as she spoke.

"I want my Mommy and Dad," she whispered.

"I know. I'm going to take you home, okay?" I said and rubbed her back like I would for Faith when she was upset.

Shelly nodded and began to cry again. The shoulder of my shirt soon became damp with moisture.

I moved to stand up and as I did so I scooped the girl up. I held her so that her bum was supported by my arm- something I did with my own daughter. She wrapped her arms around my neck and clung on for dear life.

My other hand was on her back, between her shoulder blades for further support. She wasn't very heavy, less than ninety pounds.

I began walking forward- still very aware that Phobetor could be nearby and attack.

I wasn't sure at all how I was supposed to take Shelly back to her parents when I heard an incessant beeping.

Confused, I stopped and shifted Shelly a little higher, wondering if I needed to get ready to fight.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP-

…I opened my eyes and sat up immediately. I jumped when I saw something move at the end of my bed and relaxed when I saw it was Shelly- somehow I had brought her back with me!

"Sam… shut that noise off," Dean muttered in his sleep.

I grabbed my phone and hit the alarm button.

"Dean! Wake up!" I demanded and he instantly snapped awake.

I turned on the light and my brother looked from me, sitting up to the seven-year-old girl on the end of my bed.

"Shelly Wilson," I said.

Dean shook his head.

"What…?" Dean asked.

"I brought her back," I said.

"How?" My brother asked and rubbed sleep from his eyes, blinked and seemed surprised to find Shelly still there.

I shrugged.

"We have to take her home," I said and stood.

"It's alright Shelly," I said softly to the girl, "he's my brother, Dean."

Ten minutes later Shelly was sitting at the round table, drinking from one of the bottles of water Dean had bought earlier that day and munching happily away at the last of the peanut butter M&Ms.

Dean was trying to figure out how we could return Shelly to her folks without looking like a couple of perverts.

"Her parents will still think we're FBI agents," I said.

Dean nodded, "okay, but how are we going to explain to them how we found their little girl?"

I was at a loss for words- I had no idea what my brother and I could say that wouldn't make us look like we'd just escaped from the local mental hospital.

"Let's just concentrate on getting Shelley home, okay?" I said instead.

Twenty minutes later Dean, Shelley and I were on our way across town. Dean and I had grabbed our FBI badges before leaving; we didn't bother changing into suits- even Feds didn't wear theirs 24/7.

I was nervous. I didn't know how Mr. and Mrs. Wilson would react to seeing us show up on their front step with their daughter. I also didn't know how safe Shelley was- what was stopping Phobetor from kidnapping her again?

Dean parked the Impala on the road and got out of the driver's seat facing the road.

I got out next and paused to help Shelley out of the back seat. She took hold of my hand and didn't let go as the three of us walked up the driveway and stood before the front door.

It was Dean who raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against the door.

We waited. I shifted from foot to foot and Shelley looked up at me, smiling.

The door opened and Mrs. Wilson looked extremely surprised to see my brother and me.

"Agents-" she began, looking confused as to why we were making house-calls in the wee hours of the morning when Shelly threw herself at her mother with a gleeful shout.

"Mommy!" the girl said and hugged her mother around the legs, her head reaching Mrs. Wilson's waist.

Mrs. Wilson hugged her daughter back, held her at arm's length to get a better look at her than embraced her once again.

Dean and I stood somewhat awkwardly.

Mrs. Wilson looked up, brushed tears from her eyes and cheeks and asked one word: "how?"

"Do you mind if we come inside, Mrs. Wilson?" I asked.

Mrs. Wilson nodded, "please, call me Jackie."

Jackie turned on the lights as we went. I saw her husband peer at us from the bottom of the stairs, recognize his daughter and come over and hug Shelly as well.

"Agents, we can never thank you enough," Mr. Wilson, Geoff, said.

We all gathered into the kitchen and Jackie put on a pot of coffee. She set a glass brimming with chocolate milk in front of her daughter.

"Sam found me Mom. He saved me from the Bogeyman," Shelly said as she looked up at her mother while pointing in my direction.

Jackie looked at her daughter curiously and Geoff looked at me with a mixture of unease and gratefulness.

The four of us sat silently for a few minutes, watching Shelly drink her milk. When the little girl was finished I saw her eyelids begin to droop and her head nod.

I was nervous about her falling asleep- what if Phobetor kidnapped her again?

I glanced at Dean from the corner of my eye and I saw a look on his face that read 'if he does take her, you know where to find her.'

Geoff picked up his nearly-sleeping child and took her deeper into the house, not too far away, just the living room I guessed and he returned and sat down, looking at my brother and I with an expression of expectation.

"Does this mean it's over? Have you found the other victims?" Geoff asked.

"How did you find her in the first place?" Jackie asked.

"Where was she?" Geoff continued.

"Did you catch the guy who took her?" Jackie wanted to know.

I was slightly surprised that they hadn't asked 'where are the other police officers?' or 'why isn't Shelly in the hospital?' or 'who are you two, really, and what were you doing with my daughter?'

Dean held up a hand, "one question at a time."

He hesitated before speaking again, "no, this isn't over. But we're pretty sure it's over for Shelly. We think she'll be safe now."

The Wilsons looked relieved to hear that nothing would harm their little girl again.

"To tell you how we found Shelly we need to tell you something that you might not believe," Dean continued.

Jackie paused and stood, poured the just-brewed coffee into four mugs and handed them out after asking if we wanted milk or sugar with it.

Dean took a mouthful of coffee before he spoke again.

"We're not really Federal Agents. We're brothers- he's Sam and my name is Dean and we have a lot of experience in this sort of thing," I was surprised he was giving them the 'Monsters are Real' speech.

"So, what? You're like those psychic investigators on TV who find missing people when the police can't?" Jackie asked.

Dean snorted a laughed before stifling it by taking another drink of coffee.

"Not exactly," I answered since my brother was preoccupied.

"There are things out there, not human, which would hurt innocent people," I said as slowly and carefully as I could, trying to ease the Wilsons into the idea that monsters exist.

"What are you talking about?" Geoff asked, looking at Dean and I like we were off our meds.

"Monsters, Mr. Wilson," Dean said forcefully but not unkindly.

Geoff scoffed, "there's no such thing!"

Dean shook his head, "I wish that was true."

"A… a monster kidnapped our Shelly?" Jackie spoke up, looking frightened.

For lack of a better word (and since I didn't want into a long discussion about the existence of gods) I answered yes.

Jackie put a hand to her mouth in a gasp.

"How can you prove something like that?" Geoff asked, looking at Dean and I with suspicion on his face.

"No human could take your daughter from her room in the middle of night in a locked house without leaving any evidence," Dean answered.

"Why do you think there was no broken window or jimmied locks or sign of struggle in Shelly's room?" Dean continued and Geoff looked thoughtful.

"When we came to talk to you, you said that only you two and your brother have the key to the house," I said, speaking to Jackie.

"But your brother couldn't possibly have anything to do with Shelly's kidnapping," I continued.

Jackie's brother lived in Italy for eight months of the year and wasn't about to fly over the ocean just to kidnap his niece.

Jackie nodded, "what… what kind of monsters are out there?"

"Almost anything you can think of," Dean said.

"But what took Shelly; it isn't going to come after her again?" Geoff asked.

"We don't think so," Dean answered.

"How sure are you?" Geoff asked, "We heard that they found one of the other missing people dead."

"If she goes missing again, we'll get her back," I said.

I know that didn't really comfort anyone but it was the best I could do if the unthinkable did happen.

"Do you have children?" Jackie asked me suddenly.

"I do," I nodded and as if to prove it to her I took my wallet from my back pocket and pulled out a neatly folded photograph to show her.

The picture had been taken the day Sarah had come home from the hospital with Aaron. She was sitting on the couch in the living room with Faith standing up on the cushions, peering over her mother's shoulder at her new baby brother. Sarah had a gentle, maternal smile on her face, she was tired of course, but it didn't show. Faith was grinning with pride.

"You have a lovely family," Jackie complimented and handed the photo back to me.

"Do the police know what you're doing?" Geoff asked, "Do the FBI?"

"No, and that's the way we'd like it to stay," Dean said.

"But you know we'll have to tell the police," Jackie said and looked worried.

"Just don't mention our names," I said. Even though Dean and I were thought to be dead, thanks to Agent Hendrickson's hard work (and sacrifice), it wouldn't be a good thing to suddenly appear alive and well in the FBI's criminal database.

Dean and I stood, ready to go. My brother had finished his coffee but, looking down, I saw that I hadn't even touched mine.

Geoff and Jackie stood and walked us to the door.

"I don't know how we can ever thank you," Jackie said sincerely.

"You can thank us by pretending we were never here," Dean said softly.

Jackie actually hugged Dean and I and Geoff shook our hands.

"Wanna grab some breakfast?" Dean asked even though it was only two forty-five in the morning. We were driving in the general direction of the motel but my brother certainly wasn't making a bee-line for it.

"Is anything open?" I mused.

"If there is, I'll find it," Dean said and grinned. He was feeling good- a little girl had been saved and returned to her family- one of the rare happy endings our job had. Or ex-job I should say- Dean and I were still retired. I remembered that but I was starting to wonder if Dean did.

"Yeah, your stomach will lead the way," I muttered

After ten minutes of driving Dean found an all-night diner and pulled into the parking lot.

We stepped inside and I saw that the place wasn't exactly one of the nicer diners we'd been in. The place was old- the linoleum floor was scuffed and faded and peeling in places, the tables were covered in graffiti and the lighting was strange due to the miss-matched light bulbs of differing intensity.

The place was also, practically deserted. Really, I looked over to the cash register and the bar and saw no one.

"The OPEN sign was on," Dean said.

As though Dean's words had been some kind of signal a waitress with dyed black hair and purple eye shadow, dark red lips and multiple ear piercings stepped out from the back and looked at us with some surprise.

Dean and I made our way to the back of the restaurant and sat in a booth across from each other. I grimaced as my shoes crunched old food crumbs under the table.

The Goth waitress moved to our table and poured coffee into the chipped mugs on the table.

She set a couple of menus on the table and walked away and disappeared into the back again.

I watched her go, unsure why Dean had decided to stay and eat here when I felt the place wouldn't pass a Health Inspection.

Dean picked up the mug and gulped down the coffee. He opened his mouth and almost choked.

He coughed, "it's really strong."

Taking his word for it I grabbed the sugar bowl and put about five tea spoons worth into my coffee before I tried it.

Dean looked at his menu but I wasn't sure I wanted to eat anything from this place. I could only imagine what the cook looked like- a five hundred pound ex-con with tattoos covering ninety percent of his body- a Hell's Angels guy or some other gang-banger.

Dean said something.

"What?" I asked.

"How did you find Shelly and get her back?"

"Oh, well, the first time I dreamt about Phobetor I was in this sort of strange world- and that is where I was tonight. I heard Shelly crying and I followed the sound until I found her," I answered.

"What was this 'strange world' like?" Dean asked and sipped some coffee.

"Foggy and dimly lit," I answered.

Dean nodded.

"Cold or hot?" he continued.

I tried to remember. The first time I had been there it had been a little cold but on my second visit I didn't think there was a climate.

"Neither, it was comfortable," I answered.

"Did you see Phobetor tonight?" my brother asked just as the waitress was coming back to take our orders.

"No," I answered and then looked up at the approaching Goth.

She didn't say anything so Dean began. He ordered a couple of fried eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes and sausage.

I looked at him: I don't think I'll ever get used to his huge appetite.

I chose scrambled eggs and bacon. I thought I'd be safe with that and not go for anything fancy.

When the waitress walked away, taking the menus with her with an air of indifference Dean turned back to me.

"How do we know Phobetor's not going to take Shelly again?"

"We don't," I said, "but you know that gods like to have a strict schedule and they generally follow it to the T."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled, "like you."

"Maybe he only takes ten victims at a time," I suggested, ignoring his comment.

"Let's hope so," Dean said and busied himself for a few minutes by drinking his coffee.

I took that time to lean against the vinyl backrest and drink my own. It was strong and slightly bitter and had a burnt taste but the sugar cut through most of it.

"You know, maybe I can rescue the rest of the victims and then set the bomb," I mused.

"If you can find them," Dean interjected.

I nodded. What happened with Shelly could have been a fluke and the other victims could be unreachable- trapped in their own nightmares.

"I'll find them," I said with more confidence than I felt.

Dean nodded, "I know you will Sam."

The waitress brought our food and we ate. Dean wolfed down his food as if he hadn't eaten in months.

I ate more slowly, the food was just above crappy but I didn't say anything to my brother.

After eating, we each had some more coffee, it was better this time. I guess they had to brew some more, maybe they'd finished the previous pot on us.

We were looking to another boring day- there really wasn't anything we could do until I fell asleep again.


	22. Behind The Wall Of Sleep

I sat on the end of my bed, missing my family. I knew that even when we did kill Phobetor we still had to confront Jonah.

Dean moved around the room absent-mindedly. He shoved our duffle bags into one corner; put some more of the water bottles into the fridge, and then stretched out on his bed, watching the television.

I had just got up to grab a bottle of water when a wave of nausea hit me and I almost ran to the bathroom. I just had time to push the toilet seat up before I vomited into the bowl.

"Sam?" I heard Dean ask from the main room and his footsteps came closer.

My stomach heaved painfully and I couldn't answer him.

"Shit," Dean muttered and I heard him punch the Speed Dial on his cell phone.

I closed my eyes against the acidic taste and the painful stomach cramps.

My shoulders shook as I heaved again into the toilet. The sour smell of vomit filled the small bathroom and made my nausea even worse.

I heard some of Dean's conversation over my dry heaving, "… Bobby…. it's Sam… sick… before… I… just started now… you don't think..."

"Dean," I called when I had a second.

I heard my brother move until he stood in the doorway.

"I think its food poisoning," I paused as I dry heaved, my stomach clenching painfully, "from that place this morning."

"Food poisoning?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," I panted and sat back on my heels. I could feel sweat running down my face and back. I shivered, cold, although the A/C wasn't running.

I could almost feel Dean's eyes on me, trying to tell if that really was why I was crouched over the toilet practically puking my guts out.

"I'll call you back Bobby," Dean said and closed his phone.

I stood shakily, wiped my mouth, flushed the toilet and moved into the room. All I wanted to do was lie down. I took the half dozen steps to my bed (it was the one closest to the bathroom) and collapsed face-first onto it.

Dean was instantly at my side.

He hunkered down in the space between the beds and I saw concern etched on his face.

"Just food poisoning," I said to him, my eyes half-closed.

Dean waved a hand in front of his face and scrunched his nose up, "whew, Sammy, you could have brushed your teeth or something."

I chuckled and then curled up as my stomach cramped again. Dean put a hand to my forehead, a pensive look on his face.

"You definitely have a fever," he said.

He pulled the blankets from the end of the bed and placed them over me. I didn't protest even though they made no difference- I still shivered.

Dean moved to his own bed and sat down. He looked at me for a moment and then at the TV. There was nothing to do but wait for the virus to run its course.

I guess I must have slept for a while because when I opened my eyes again it was midday.

Dean was eating something out of take-out container as he sat at the table. He had turned off the TV and had been watching me.

My stomach still cramped and nausea still rolled over me but I felt a little better after sleeping for a few hours.

I could see the expression on my brother's face that he was worried about me, and not the normal 'Sammy's sick' kind of worrying he had like when I got the flu or something. No, this was a look reminiscent to the one I often saw on his face the year I had come back from Hell yet had still been Lucifer's power.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked.

"A little better," I said and sat up in bed.

"That's good to hear," Dean nodded.

My brother walked over to me, bringing the front page of a newspaper with him.

I read the headline: 'The Lafayette Ripper Strikes Again!'

I took the paper from Dean and read the corresponding article.

Myrtle Cummings, age seventy-five, one of the ten missing people, had been found dead in her bedroom by her husband, Allen.

"Shit," I muttered and moved to stand but a wave of nausea passed through me and I groaned as my stomach threatened to release whatever was left inside it.

"I'll take a look down at the coroner's office," Dean suggested.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked with slight indignation.

"You are going to stay here until you can safely move without getting sick and spewing everywhere," Dean said, exaggerating the seriousness of the virus.

Dean moved to the bathroom and changed into a suit and stepped out, straightening his tie.

"Thom Zimmerman had pieces of wood beneath his nails. Check for anything unusual like that on Myrtle," I said as Dean made for the door.

"I know what I'm doing Sam," Dean said, "don't worry."

"Just don't let the Lieutenant or those FBI agents see you," I warned.

Dean smiled, "I'll be like a ghost."

He grinned at me, waved, and slipped out the door leaving me to wait anxiously for his return and try not to feel any worse than I already was.

SPN

I really didn't want to leave Sam alone in the motel room but there really wasn't a choice. We needed to know about Myrtle and my brother wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

As I drove down to the coroner's office I couldn't help but think of Sam.

To say that I was a little bit freaked when my brother had started upchucking his breakfast is an understatement.

I know what you must be thinking: c'mon Dean, Sam's going to get sick some of the time but that's nothing to call the National Guard about… or Bobby at least.

If you're thinking that then you don't remember the year I spent with Sammy just after he had been released from the Cage, but not Lucifer's clutches, unfortunately.

When my brother ran into the bathroom all I could think about were the many times that year when Sam could barely eat for throwing up minutes later. I thought about the frantic call from Bobby I had got when Cas and I had gone back to Cicero to tell me Sam was in really bad shape and to get back to Sioux Falls on the double. I remembered seeing Sam lying on Bobby's couch, curled into a miserable ball and obviously in extreme pain. He had ended up in the hospital after that- I couldn't get mad a Bobby for calling an ambulance- I had to agree with the old hunter that maybe that was the best place for him at the time.

Eventually I was informed as to what was causing Sam so much pain- Lucifer, although still trapped in his Cage, had power over my brother.

So, yeah, I guess you can understand why I immediately thought the worst when I saw Sam blowing chucks into the motel room toilet.

Even though the Devil was dead (and I had no reason to doubt that he wasn't) I couldn't help but think about that terrible year and slip into what Sam likes to call 'Protective-Dean Mode'.

What can I say? Sam's still my (little) brother and it was my job to keep him safe.

I just hoped that the food poisoning would wear off and Sam would be back to his, uh, normal self again.

Yes, I hesitated because I don't feel that Sam has been his 'normal' self since returning from Hell. So I guess I should revise that and say that I hoped that Sam would be back to his normal post- Hell self.

I turned on my stereo and listened to some Metallica- 'Whiplash' and 'Metal Militia' and Black Sabbath- 'Sabbra Cadabra' and 'Disturbing the Priest'.

I pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the Medical Examiner's building. Confidently I went up the sidewalk and into the building.

I walked down the hall, showed my fake badge to the coroner's assistant and slipped inside the morgue.

I looked at the metal drawers and found the one that contained the earthly remains of Myrtle Cummings. I pulled the drawer open and slid the white sheet down to just below the old woman's chin.

She had fluffy, white hair, her face was deeply lined with wrinkles and if not for the fact that she was deathly pale, she might have been asleep.

I went to the door of the room and poked my head out and whistled to the assistant- a petite brunette with a pixie style haircut.

She walked over with some annoyance in her expression but not much.

"What can I do for you, Agent?" she asked.

"Can I see Myrtle Cumming's autopsy report?" I asked.

"Well, Dr. Redding's on lunch right now and I'm really not supposed to handle the reports without his authorization…" she began but I gave her my most charming smile.

"This is of the utmost importance," I said.

"Well," she hesitated but I could see my charm working on her. HA! I still had it, married man that I am.

"Dr. Redding won't even know I was looking at it- I promise to return it when I'm done," I said.

"Oh, alright," the assistant said and entered the morgue when I made room for her.

She unlocked a drawer of an imposing steel filing cabinet, shifted through some of the folders and pulled one out.

"Here you go," she handed me the file.

"Thanks," I said and flashed a smile at her.

"Just remember to return it when you're finished," she said with a hint of authority in her voice.

I nodded.

I watched as the assistant walked down the hall and turned the corner to where her desk was.

I closed the door behind me and opened the folder.

Redding must be really anal if he doesn't even let his assistant touch the autopsy files, I thought, nut-job.

As I read through the report I couldn't help but grimace- just like Thom Zimmerman, Myrtle had been sliced from sternum to navel and the same organs removed.

Just to be sure, I slipped on some rubber gloves and carefully peeled back one of the old woman's eyelids to reveal an empty eye socket.

Frowning, I scanned through the rest of the file and saw that unlike Thom Zimmerman who had died of suffocation, Myrtle had died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

That's really weird, I thought. First we had a suffocated victim with wood beneath his nails and now one who been exposed to a poisonous gas.

Just like Thom Zimmerman, Myrtle Cummings had been cut open perimortem.

Why was Phobetor killing his victims differently? I knew it had something to do with the victims' nightmares, it had to, but I was too concerned with Sam at the moment to be thinking about some people who were already dead.

If Sam was here he'd be able to figure this out. I took a notebook from the inner pocket of my suit jacket and copied some vital notes about Myrtle Cummings autopsy so I could tell my brother when I got back to the motel.

I looked at the most recent victim's body and decided that I had learned all I could from her. I pushed her drawer back in and remembered to put the file back. I didn't know where it was meant to go, exactly so I left it on the end and closed the cabinet.

I thanked the assistant again on my way out and left the building. I actually walked right past Dr. Redding who was making his way back inside, drinking from a paper McDonald's cup, but he didn't even recognize me.

I drove back to the motel quickly. I wanted to tell Sam the news.

I stepped inside, mouth already open to speak when I saw my brother.

He was sitting up in his bed but he had a frightened expression on his face and his green eyes were dark with that haunted look that had come to the forefront.

I looked around dumbly- had Jonah decided to strike while I was out?

But I didn't see the crazy hunter- I saw, instead, a short Korean chick.

She looked familiar and I realized an instant later that she was that fallen angel who had let us know where Raphael had stashed Sam.

What was her name again? Astrid? No, Aster?

"Astoreth," Sam said as though reading my thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice. I closed the door and stepped further into the room.

"Raphael believes he can resurrect Lucifer," Astoreth said without any emotion in her voice.

My heart leapt into my throat.

"Bullshit," I said.

Astoreth pinned me with a glare.

"You can't be serious, you're joking," I continued.

"I have never been more serious, Dean Winchester and I certainly would not joke about something like this," the fallen angel said.

"But, Lucifer's dead, Sam killed him. He can't come back," I stammered like an idiot.

"Raphael is convinced he can remedy that," Astoreth continued.

"But don't angels, I don't know, just vanish or something when they die, cease to exist?" I asked.

I knew angels couldn't go to Heaven, they were already heavenly creatures so what did happen when an angel was stabbed by a Seraph Blade?

"Not exactly, when an angel dies, their… energy, life force, returns to the universe, like a dust or pollen the energy is spread out over millions and millions of miles of area, to be used again, recycled… the concept may be difficult for a human like you to grasp," Astoreth explained.

"I get it," I interrupted. Sort of, I thought.

"So, what, does Raphael think he's going to gather up all the little energy particles that made up Lucifer and put him back together like he's Humpty Dumpty or something?"

Astoreth blinked. She obviously didn't understand the reference but who cares?

"Yes," she answered finally.

"He's gotta get of that high horse of his and realize that he's not that strong," I said.

Astoreth inclined her head, "no angel has ever resurrected one of his siblings but, logistically, it is possible."

"And where'd you get this info exactly? And why are you telling us? Out of the goodness of your heart?" I asked the fallen angel.

"Abdiel and Castiel asked me to give you this information," Astoreth said.

"Why didn't they just deliver their own message?" I asked. I was sure Abdiel, at least, would put it a little bit mildly.

"Right now they are preoccupied with the war," Astoreth snapped, "the war that you two unwittingly started when you refused Michael and Lucifer."

I opened my mouth to protest but shut it again.

"So Cas has you playing his errand girl now?" I asked with a barely suppressed smirk, "that must be a big step up from being Raphael's lackey."

Astoreth bristled at that.

"I came here willingly because I was asked," she hissed.

"Abdiel wanted to tell you two himself but Cas insisted he was needed in Heaven," Astoreth said with less venom in her voice.

I bit back a snide comment that I had been about to say when I realized that Abdiel obviously still cared about Sam and it must have been hard for him to stay away rather than tell my brother and me the news himself.

I wiped a hand over my face and when I looked again Astoreth had vanished in a rush of warm wind.

I looked at Sam and saw that he was visibly shaking- he was very pale and his shirt was damp with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead- he still had a fever, then.

"Dean?" Sam said, looking as scared as I had ever seen him.

I moved to his bed and sat down. Sam scooted over to give me more room.

Sam was breathing heavily, "I can't do it Dean, I can't fight him again."

"Hey, Raphael isn't going to bring anybody back from the dead, let alone Lucifer," I said and I reached out and hugged my brother, trying to calm him.

On top of everything else- Jonah and Phobetor and the PTSD- this little tidbit of information had to be piled on Sam. I didn't really blame him for freaking out- plus he had a fever which didn't make matters any better.

Sam sat so that my chin was resting on the top of his head, a slightly awkward position since he's taller than me but he kind of slumped so it was possible.

Sam grabbed the front of my shirt as though to keep me from getting up or to keep himself from passing out or something.

"Dean, I won't be able to do it…I'll lose," Sam muttered.

"Don't talk like that Sam," I said, "you know as well as I do that the only being who can bring an angel back from the dead is God and I doubt He'll be putting Lucifer back in the game any time soon."

Sam moved his head so that he was looking up at me and I saw his eyes were glassy. He needed to sleep so I did something that I hadn't done since we were kids- I ran one hand through Sam's dark brown hair, pushing his bangs back from his forehead and carding through the rest. I repeated the action until Sam's eyes closed and he was breathing softly and slowly.

Carefully I moved off the bed, easing my sleeping brother down so that he was lying on his back on the bed.

I stood, stretched my back- I felt a spasm of pain in the muscles and frowned, I had to remember that I wasn't so young anymore and that sooner or later age and the abuses of my old hunter lifestyle were going to catch up with me.

I took my cell phone from the pocket of my jeans and called Bobby.

"Hey, It's me again," I said when the old hunter picked up.

"Is it food poisoning- pretty sure- sorry 'bout the false alarm," I said.

"Thank goodness that's all it was," Bobby muttered.

"Which reminds me- that angel who told us where Sam was when Raphael kidnapped him?" I said and paused for Bobby to recall the weeks we had spent in a futile search for my brother.

"Yeah? What about it?" Bobby growled.

"Well, it turns out she's become all chummy with Cas and Abdiel and-" I began but Bobby interrupted.

"Just get to the point!" He rumbled.

"Apparently Cas and Abdiel heard through the grapevine that Raphael has decided to try his hand at playing Dr. Frankenstein," I said.

"What?" Bobby asked.

"C'mon, don't tell me you've never read Frankenstein? It's about some crazy doctor who makes a living man out of recycled corpse parts (or so Sam says)," I scoffed.

"I know what it's about Dean," Bobby snapped.

"Oh," I faltered.

"So who's the lucky candidate for Raphael's experiment?" Bobby asked, "Gabriel?"

"Ha! I wish it was Bobby, no, you get one more guess," I said.

Bobby sighed, maybe he didn't like my making light of the situation but I couldn't help it. Didn't someone once say something about laughing to keep from crying? Yeah? Well, that's my view on the tough stuff in a nutshell.

Bobby took a breath, "you don't mean?"

I nodded before I remembered I was talking on the phone, "He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Lucifer," Bobby corrected brusquely.

"Yeah," I answered.

"How's Sam taking the news?" Bobby asked, now he sounded worried.

"As well as can be expected- he's got a fever from the food poisoning and that kinda made things worse," I answered.

"How many of his pills does he have left?" Bobby asked.

I paused for a minute to rummage around in Sam's duffle bag and pulled out the three bottles. I scowled- there were maybe enough pills to last a week or two, if Sam was sparing with them.

"Not much," I answered.

"When he runs out you watch him like a hawk," Bobby said.

"Don't I know it," I muttered.

I didn't know how Sam was going to be able to focus on killing Phobetor and tracking down Jonah once the effects of the medication wore off.

"Bobby, what's he like now? What's the PTSD like now?" I asked.

"When I saw Sam to give him the prescription he said that he still had the depression," Bobby said and I nodded as I looked down at the bottle of small red lithium pills in my hand.

"Still got the nightmares as well," Bobby said.

"What about the flashbacks?" I needed to know. The last time Sam had had a hallucination/flashback it had been bad, almost bad enough to incapacitate him. What am I saying? It did incapacitate him for a number of minutes.

"Dunno," Bobby said and I could almost hear him shrug, "called me up for the medication because of a nightmare."

"Okay, uh, thanks Bobby… I'll keep you posted," I said and hung up after Bobby had said good-bye.

I put my phone back in my pocket and checked to make sure Sam was still asleep.

I grabbed the Impala's keys and drove back to the grocery store to pick up a bottle of Schweppes ginger-ale and a box of saltine crackers for Sam.

As I walked down the aisle toward the check-out I couldn't help but look for the girl I was pretty sure was May Gables, Marcie Gable's younger sister.

I sighed with relief when I didn't see the redhead and took that as a good sign. I paid for my purchases and drove back to the motel as fast as I could. I didn't like to leave Sam on his own for very long- especially when he was ill.

When I stepped inside the motel room I saw that Sam was still fast asleep. I set the box of crackers and soda on the table and settled down on my bed to watch some TV until Sam woke up.

SPN

The prospect of Lucifer being brought back to life again terrified me. At first I couldn't quite comprehend what Astoreth was saying- blame it on the fever- but once that meaning of her words had sunk in that was it.

While Dean had been at the morgue I had tried to watch some TV and I had been feeling better but then a wave of nausea hit me and sent me running to the bathroom once again.

With nothing in my stomach to throw up this time, my gut squeezed painfully in an attempt to empty itself. I groaned and wiped beads of sweat off my forehead. I shivered and was freezing, unable to get warm no matter how many blankets I piled on top of myself.

I had just practically crawled back into bed when I heard the faint flutter of wings, felt a warm breeze and saw Astoreth appear in the middle of the room.

"How did you find me?" I whispered.

"Abdiel knows where you are at all times, because of the bond and he told me you and your brother are staying here," Astoreth answered.

"Why are you here?" I said, a little louder than a whisper this time.

"Raphael, our mutual enemy, may raise Lucifer once again," the angel said.

"What!" I gasped and sat up abruptly but quickly slid back down to lay against the pillows as I felt dizzy at the sudden movement.

"Raphael is preparing to-" Astoreth began again but I interrupted.

"I heard you the first time," I mumbled.

"You are not well," Astoreth observed.

"Yeah, funny how whenever we meet I'm sick," I said sarcastically and then groaned as my stomach cramped.

Astoreth made as if to speak again but at that moment we both heard the rumble of the Impala's engine.

After that I don't really remember a whole lot. I know Dean was pissed at the fallen angel- I guess he had a right to be but, I mean, don't shoot the messenger, right?

The fever must have gained strength because the last thing I do remember is looking into Dean's concerned face as my eyes closed to sleep…

…I was driving home on one of the Sunday's I'm scheduled to work at the library and there was music on the radio. But not the kind of music I would listen to:

'The Fallen Angel' by Iron Maiden was blasting from the speakers. I sighed and turned off the radio- I was almost home anyway.

To tell the truth, the song made me nervous, put me on edge. I knew it seems dumb to get all worked up about some random music but it didn't seem so coincidental to me. It almost seemed like an omen, like a portent of things to come.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and told myself to look forward to spending the evening with my family.

I pulled into the long dirt driveway and stopped the car, turned off the engine. I sat for a moment and then I turned the truck back on and turned on the radio.

'Tiptoe Through The Tulips' was playing now. Nothing insidious about that song.

I shook my head and smiled to myself. I shut off the engine and Tiny Tim stopped abruptly.

I got out of the truck and stretched. It was early evening- the sun almost touching the horizon cast a red glow across the miles and miles of prairie and cornfields. The horses were in the paddock, at the end farthest from the house, cropping at the grass.

I walked up the worn dirt path that led to the front porch and opened the front door.

I heard the TV playing in the living room- one of Sarah's cooking shows- and smelt dinner cooking in the kitchen.

"Sarah? I'm home," I said.

Normally Faith would come running out to greet me when she heard the pickup truck's engine in the driveway.

"In here Sam," Sarah's voice called out. She didn't sound happy though, her voice had sounded… strained.

What was wrong? I paused, shrugged my coat off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Still in my sneakers I walked toward the living room and stopped dead.

Sarah was sitting on the couch with Faith on her left side and Aaron, now able to sit up on his own, on her right side.

Besides my family, a half dozen strangers stood in my living room.

I noticed the deadpan expressions on four of the intruders and the very emotional ones on the last two.

The one intruder I recognized- how could I forget her curly, black hair and equally black eyes?

"Meg," I growled in my throat.

"Hi Sam, we were just waiting until you got home," Meg smiled.

"Why are you here?" I demanded.

Meg grinned with barely contained glee.

"Hello Sam," I heard a male voice and I turned to the only other visitor whose face wasn't expressionless.

This was an older gentleman, maybe in his late sixties to early seventies who wore a tailored-for-him black suit, wavy grey hair parted down the middle and a neatly trimmed mustache of grey.

I opened my mouth and then realized exactly who this man was.

"Lucifer," I breathed. It felt as if all the air had been pushed from my lungs.

"No, I killed you," I said in disbelief that Raphael had actually succeeded.

"I'm not angry Sam," Lucifer said as though he truly meant it.

"You were very clever to dispatch me with my own Seraph Blade. I am quite impressed that you were actually strong enough to fight back," Lucifer continued.

"I am glad that you are so brilliant," he said, "it makes things interesting... but now, I think you are all out of tricks."

The old man smiled and it would have been a kindly, grandfatherly sort of smile if it wasn't for the fact that it was the Devil.

Words from Hamlet came to mind as I stared at the elderly man: 'That one may smile, and smile and be a villain'.

"Why don't you take a seat Sam?" Lucifer gestured to the couch and I could only obey.

I sat down beside Aaron who sat down heavily in my lap and grabbed the sleeve of my shirt. He was staring around at the intruders with his dark brown eyes wide.

I wasn't going to pretend I didn't know what Lucifer wanted. Of course he wanted me to say yes to him. Why else would he be here?

I silently cursed myself for not demon- and angel-proofing the house. It was just that I didn't think I needed to- I thought it was over. I guess I was wrong.

"Listen to me. Don't hurt them, alright?" I began.

Lucifer listened patiently.

"This doesn't involve them," I continued.

"Leave them alone and I'll go quietly," I said.

"I know you will, Sam," Lucifer said softly and leveled his light brown eyes at me.

I knew he had no intention of letting my family go.

I felt tears well up in my eyes but I wouldn't let them overflow.

"Please, please, don't hurt them," I begged and looked down at Aaron, who was staring at Lucifer with the curiosity of a small child.

I was mildly surprised that neither Faith nor Aaron could sense the evil in the house. Maybe it was just wishful thinking that because they were so young they would be more attuned to that sort of thing than adults were.

Sarah had a determined expression on her face but I saw fear in her eyes.

Lucifer turned his attention to my wife and addressed her by name, "Sarah, would you kindly take your… offspring and go into the kitchen?"

Sarah looked at me. I didn't know what to do, what to say and so I nodded, "It's alright."

My wife stood, picked up our children.

Faith, reacting to the tension in the room, I guess, looked over her mother's shoulder and held her arms out to me.

"Daddy," she said the one word and I felt my heart break.

"Daddy's coming with us?" Faith turned to Sarah and asked.

"Yeah, Sweetheart, in a minute," Sarah said softly.

"Good," Faith said and grinned at me from behind her mother's back.

I did my best to smile back.

I clenched my hands into fists to try and stop their trembling. I looked up when I heard Meg move and saw her take a gun from the waistband of her jeans.

My mouth went dry as I watched the demon stroll toward the kitchen.

I looked at Lucifer.

"No," I whispered, "please no, not my family…"

But I saw no ounce of compassion or mercy in the brown eyes that met mine.

I stood. I needed to save my wife and children.

"I would suggest you sit back down, Sam," Lucifer said in a disinterested voice.

I was about to rush to the kitchen when I heard the muffled whistle of a silencer in three quick shots followed by the sound of each of my family members falling to the floor.

My legs trembled and to stop myself from falling, I sat down on the couch.

"You son of a bitch," I said with venom, "you fucking bastard!"

Lucifer looked at me.

"I beg to differ Sam. I am the hand of mercy," Lucifer said.

"You just had my family shot in cold blood!" I snarled.

Meg exited the kitchen with a satisfied look on her face.

"I'm going to kill you," I told the demon.

Meg didn't look at all intimidated.

I turned back to Lucifer, "why? They did nothing to you."

"Sam, you should be happy that I was so compromising and their deaths were swift," Lucifer said.

"You killed children! Children!" I stammered.

"Children go straight to Heaven when they die, Sam, and I am sure that your wife had a little piece of paradise reserved there as well," Lucifer said as if that would make me feel better.

"They did not suffer Sam," Lucifer informed me, "and now they will spend all eternity in mirth and peace."

"You should be thanking me," Lucifer said and a smiled curled his lips, "that I am so kind."

That was it. I still had my hands balled into fists at my side and now I took a swing at the Devil's smug face.

I didn't make it though- before I knew what was happening I was on my back with Meg's boot pressing down on my sternum.

I coughed and tears leaked from my eyes.

The demon smiled down at me and then stepped aside.

I stood unsteadily, still coughing and wiped my face on my sleeve.

Lucifer looked at me now with anything but indifference.

"I am no longer in the mood for games now, Sam," he spoke softly but I heard a threat in his words.

I bowed my head. I would go with them willingly enough but I wouldn't give in so easily.

When I looked up again Lucifer was gone and the only living souls in the house were me and the four demons.

Two of the demons approached me, grabbed my arms and slapped a pair of handcuffs over my wrists.

With the demons still tightly holding onto my upper arms they ushered me through the living room, past the kitchen where I just had time to glimpse Sarah lying prone on the floor, one arm outstretched in a pool of blood before I was pushed out the front door and down the porch steps.

Meg and the fourth demon, another woman with honey-coloured hair done up in a tight bun and severe blue eyes followed.

I felt my grief rising in my chest and tears threatened to spill again.

Don't you dare start crying in front of these bastards, I heard Dean's voice say in my head.

We approached a limousine that was parked in the driveway- it had not been there when I had pulled in.

I briefly wondered if I'd be able to make a run for it but decided that would be a bad idea- I didn't doubt that the demons would easily catch me and anyway where would I run to? I couldn't exactly go knocking urgently on the Myers' door or call up Coombs and say my family had been murdered by a demon and the Devil was after me.

Meg got into the back of the limo first, followed by me and a male demon with a scowl and a military-style shaved head. The two other demons, the blonde woman and a wiry man of Indian descent got into the front seats- the woman drove.

I sat miserably between Meg and the male demon, shoulders slumped and my head in my hands, trying not to think about my family.

We drove throughout the night. After a while I looked out the window- trying to figure out where they were taking me.

I could see Meg grinning almost from ear to ear out of the corner of my eye and my anger flared up.

I threw all my weight into her and she slammed her head hard enough against the window to crack the glass. I used the little length of chain between the cuffs to strangle the demon. I pressed down as hard as I could, I knew it wouldn't kill her but it would be uncomfortable and if this was the only bit of revenge I got- I didn't care for the consequences.

I grinned rabidly in Meg's face even as her hands wrapped around my throat and she began to throttle me.

The male demon on my other side grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head and was attempting to pull me away from Meg.

For about an entire minute the limo was the scene of chaos.

I attempted to strangle Meg while she kept a tight hold on my throat in turn and the male demon was trying to pull me back.

"Stop the car!" the male demon shouted to the driver.

I was beginning to feel light-headed and black spots appeared in front of my eyes from lack of oxygen.

I only continued to press down harder with the chain, thinking that it would certainly decapitate Meg if it were to go any deeper into her throat.

"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!" the male demon shouted at the top of his voice and the limo slid to a halt, tires screeching on the pavement.

The two demons and I were thrown forward with the momentum of the braking car and I lost my grip on Meg's neck, and she on mine.

I gasped for air, choking, scrabbling to finish what I had stared.

Meg opened her door and easily slipped out. The male demon released me but gave me a hard shove so that I sprawled onto the asphalt.

The three other demons exited the car and surrounded me as I attempted to catch my breath.

"You should have cuffed my hands behind my back, genius," I coughed, speaking to the demon who'd put the handcuffs on in the first place.

Meg grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me into a standing position.

She hauled off and punched me in the face.

"What are you doing?" the blonde demon asked Meg, looking horrified.

I felt my lip split and blood dribbled down my chin.

"Don't worry, I won't kill him," Meg assured the other demon.

"But Lucifer will be furious if you damage his vessel," the demon wearing the Indian man said.

"It won't be anything permanent," Meg said and punched me in the mouth again.

She let go of my shirt and I crumpled to the ground- I didn't have the energy or the desire to get up again.

The toe of Meg's boot caught me in the ribs and I instinctively curled into a ball to protect my head and chest.

"Get up!" Meg demanded.

When I didn't respond she kicked me in the head.

I groaned but didn't move.

"I said get up! Get up!" Meg demanded, kicking me over and over.

"Stand up you useless piece of shit!" she screeched.

"Stop it," the blond demon said and I looked up to see her put a restraining hand on Meg's arm.

Meg looked down at me and went back to her usual, sickeningly happy, mocking self.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder and walked back to the limo.

The two male demons got me to my feet and pushed me back toward the car.

Once inside again I noticed that Meg had taken the front passenger's seat and now I was sitting between Blondie and the Indian demon.

We drove throughout the night- I didn't try anything else. My head and ribs throbbed where Meg had kicked me and my split lip stung, still dripping blood onto my shirt.

I tried not to think of Sarah or our children but I couldn't help it. As the sky began to turn the grey of dawn I wondered who would discover their bodies, and when. Surely someone would notice when Sarah did not open up the Gallery in town in the morning- I had once received a phone call from Ralph asking where my wife was (as it turned out, Sarah was in bed with the flu) because he hadn't seen her downtown.

I knew what my neighbours would think when they stumbled upon the bodies of my family members and with me having conveniently disappeared- all fingers would be pointed at me. Too bad the law wouldn't find me- I was sure of that.

We passed into Idaho driving following the US Highway 93 out of Montana.

"Where are we going?" I asked, to no one in particular, whichever demon answered I didn't care.

No one answered my question. I had figured as much.

I shifted in my seat and Blondie glanced at me from the corner of her eye. I stopped and leaned against the backrest.

You really screwed up this time Sammy, Dean's voice said in my mind.

Shut up, I thought.

Why'd you go with them? Don't you know you just walked right into Lucifer's waiting arms? Dean continued.

What choice did I have? Either I was going to go standing or they'd force me to come with them, I grumbled mentally.

Ah, I get it- non-violent resistance and all that, Dean's voice didn't sound convinced but I didn't care- he was after all, just a figment of my imagination.

I looked out the window and watched the scenery fly by- ignoring my brother's voice in my head.

It was still early morning when we entered a medium sized city. I saw the sign as it flashed by: SALMON, IDAHO. POPULATION: 3,456.

A little farther down the road there was a large painted mural of the Lemhi River with the city's namesake fish jumping from the idealized blue waters and the words: 'A Nice Place To Live' painted across the bottom in cheery yellow letters.

I wasn't sure why we were driving through a city when we could easily bypass it. Maybe this was our destination though.

We drove to the outskirts of the city. Suburbia ended and houses and businesses became few and far between.

The demon driving the limo stopped before the gates of what appeared to be an old, abandoned jail. The limousine idled momentarily before the high wrought iron gates creaked open and then drove through. The gate closed behind us with a rusty clank.

I grew very nervous. Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. I wiped my face on the sleeve of my shirt, smearing blood and sweat into the fabric.

I trembled uncontrollably. It seemed that I was only now beginning to grasp the seriousness of the situation I was in.

The jail building itself loomed ahead- constructed of dark red bricks and dozens of small, barred windows.

The demon driving stopped the car and shut off the engine. Blondie opened her door, grabbed the chain between the handcuffs and led me out after herself.

The demon wearing the Indian man slipped out of the car with ease and stood just behind me. Meg sauntered over, followed by the military man turned demon.

Meg stopped and stared at the jail as though admiring its architecture.

"This place has been abandoned since the early nineteen hundreds. No one comes near here anymore… except teens on dares. The city won't destroy it because some mayor claimed it as a historical building… so now we have it all to ourselves," she said as though I really cared.

"They even used to hang the criminals out in the back," Meg grinned at the idea.

"I'm glad someone is enjoying this," I muttered and we began to walk toward the large, double doors of the old jail.

"And so should you. I thought all humans dreamed of fulfilling some higher purpose, having some great destiny… and that's exactly what you're going to be doing," Meg said

"Fuck you," I snapped.

Meg shrugged, "I don't know why you want to make this hard on yourself."

I said nothing as I was prodded and pushed inside the building.

The first thing I noticed was how cold it was. I knew that there would be no heating or anything inside the building- no one was supposed to be here- but it felt much colder than it should have been.

I shivered and saw that I seemed to be the only one affected by the temperature.

It's Lucifer, I thought, he's making it cold- like in Detroit.

Besides the chill air in the building the interior itself was also cold and sterile- grey tiled floors and whitewashed cinderblock walls, fluorescent lights, row after row in a stained, yellowing ceiling made of the tiles that are often seen in schools.

We walked past what used to be the security desk- its surface scattered with old papers and dead flies, the monitors were dark, some of the screens broken.

I was lead down a hall past cells, one after the other, none very big, 8'x10' at least and was stopped in front of one of these cells.

Meg slid open the door and Blondie, letting go of the handcuffs, pushed me inside while Meg slammed the door and locked it.

I turned around and faced the demons, all with bland expressions except Meg.

"I'm not afraid of you," I told her.

"It's not me you should be afraid of," she said and wiggled her fingers in a good-bye wave and followed the other three demons down the hall.

I sighed and peered out through the bars- this wasn't the first time I had been in a jail cell- not that it got any easier- but at least I could cope. I guess. Who can really feel comfortable in a space hardly big enough to walk around in?

My stomach growled and I remembered I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.

"I don't suppose you could bring me some breakfast!" I called in the direction that Meg and her fellow demons had walked.

I didn't expect an answer and I didn't get one. I didn't think they'd let me starve to death though.

I looked around at my small cell- there was room for a cot, a sink and a toilet. I sat down on the cot with its thin mattress and even thinner blanket.

I took a deep breath and forced myself not to panic. I wasn't hurt, not badly at any rate, and I didn't seem to be in immediate danger.

Just hold on Sammy, Dean's voice spoke up; you know Lucifer needs your permission to possess you. So keep saying no to that douche bag and you can get out of here in one piece.

I could probably tell Lucifer no for a long time but I didn't think I'd be getting out of here any time soon, let alone in one piece.

Hours passed and still no demon or the Devil had shown up. I walked around and around my cell. I began twisting my wedding band on my finger in agitation. I still shivered with cold- I had thought I would get used to it but I didn't. I took the blanket off the cot and draped it over my shoulders almost as if it was a scratchy, grey cape and that helped… a little.

"C'mon, c'mon," I muttered, I don't know why. Maybe I wanted something to happen.

And something did happen- I looked up when I heard footsteps approaching.

I looked out and saw Lucifer walking down the hallway.

I backed up until I was against the far wall. When the Devil stepped in front of the cell I saw that he was holding a gallon jug filled with a dark red liquid. Demon blood.

I held my hands up as though in an act of surrender.

Lucifer unlocked the cell door and set the jug down just inside- he gave that grandfatherly smile again as though he had brought some kind of peace offering or something.

"Don't worry Sam, it's alright," Lucifer said. I didn't see anything alright with this.

"Get that away from me," I demanded.

Lucifer though, had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He closed the door, locked it and casually walked away.

I sat down on the cot and stared at the blood.

Don't even think about it Sammy, Dean's voice said.

"I'm not, I won't," I said out loud.

Good, because if you do I'll have to come and kick your ass, Dean promised.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the blood, only a few feet away.

Think about something else, I thought, anything else.

Think about Sarah, I demanded of myself and I pictured her in my mind.

I saw her warm smile, her grey eyes filled with love; I remembered how her long, dark hair felt in my hands…

Suddenly, thoughts of Ruby intruded and I groaned.

No! No, think about Sarah. Sarah!

My heart began to pound in my chest and my palms became slick with sweat.

I opened my eyes and looked at the water stained ceiling.

I couldn't help but think of Ruby- the fact that I had loved her once.

Dammit! I cursed myself, she betrayed you. Ruby was a traitor.

It still stung to remember how Ruby had lied to me and used me.

You should have listened to me Sammy, Dean accused, big brother knows best.

Shut up Dean, I thought, I don't need your commentary.

My gaze shifted to the jug of demon blood.

Don't give in, I told myself, that's exactly what Lucifer wants. Don't play his game.

I started twisting my wedding band around my finger again. I looked down at the plain circle of silver.

What would Sarah say if you did that? I thought.

She's not going to know, is she? A new voice interrupted. This was my voice, but not my voice. This was the voice I often heard while 'high' on demon blood- this voice assured me, along with Ruby that what I was doing was a good thing, that it was the right thing- this was the voice of the Junkie.

The Junkie, I thought, sounds like some bad Tarot card.

Sarah may not know but I will, I thought.

So? Don't you remember how it feels? How strong you feel? Like you're in control, the Junkie said.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I said aloud, "I don't want it."

But I know you do, the Junkie continued, relentless.

Don't do it Sammy, Dean's voice interrupted.

"I won't Dean," I muttered and realized how crazy I must sound; how crazy I would have sounded if anyone had been near to hear me.

Forget Dean, he doesn't understand, he can never understand- the Junkie prodded.

"Stop talking to me!" I cried out loud and turned around so I sat with my back facing the bars of the cell, and the blood.

That a boy Sammy, Dean said.

All of you just shut the hell up!

No one spoke for a number of minutes and I relaxed.

Just this once won't hurt, the Junkie said.

I was wringing my hands nervously.

You can get revenge on that bitch Meg for killing your family, the Junkie said.

Revenge never gets anyone anywhere Sam; you know that, Dean's voice- the voice of reason said- revenge won't bring them back Sam and you know it.

You're tired, you're upset and you need something to keep you going, the Junkie interrupted.

I looked over my shoulder at the jug, sitting on the cement floor almost innocently.

Don't you do it Sam, Dean warned, it's poison, it'll kill you.

"I'm already dead Dean," I said and stood, making my way slowly to the jug.

Dean's voice was drowned out as I picked up the jug. I could feel my heart beating ever faster in my chest, my hands trembled, maybe out of anticipation or fear or both, I don't know.

I uncapped the lid.

Yes, the Junkie urged, do it!

I didn't even think about what I was doing- I just drank the blood.

When I finished I lowered the bottle in one hand and wiped my face on my sleeve.

What have I done? I thought.

My knees buckled and I landed heavily on my butt. I let the bottle slip from my fingers. I felt nauseous and wondered if I was going to throw up.

I moved over to the sink and pulled myself up. I leaned over for about five minutes, hoping, praying that I'd be sick but I knew I wouldn't.

Dean? I asked, Dean, I'm sorry.

No response.

I thought I taught you better than that Sam, my father's voice said now, sounding as disappointed as he ever had.

I lowered my head and groaned miserably.

I had to admit that I did feel better, less panicked, more clearheaded, but at what cost?

I moved to the cot and sat down. I stared at the now empty jug lying on the floor.

Even as I sat there I felt the craving flare up, intensify- I wanted more blood.

I stood angrily and grabbed the jug from the floor, threw it against the bars of the cell to watch it bounce off and skitter under the cot.

"FUCK!" I shouted out loud.

I moved to the front of the cell, wrapped my hands around the bars and shouted at the top of my voice:

"Hey! I hope Michael kills you! I hope he tears you limb from limb! I hope he rips your fucking head off you son of a bitch!"

After that my knees wobbled and I sank to the floor. I leaned my forehead against the bars and took a few deep breaths.

I shivered with cold and crawled into a corner, pulled my legs up to my chest and rested my head on my knees.

I don't know how long I remained like that; it must have been a while because when I looked up the fluorescent lights in the corridor were on.

It must be nighttime now, I thought dully.

I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway once again but this time they came from the direction of the entrance.

"Easy on the merchandise," I heard a familiar voice say.

I stood and looked through the bars of my prison.

"Dean!" I cried out as I saw him being ushered down the hall.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed. He looked a little ruffled but otherwise he seemed unhurt.

"Don't give these bastards an inch Sammy," Dean said as two demons pushed him past my cell.

"I won't," I said.

"Whatever happens, don't do it Sam," Dean called back and looked back at me with concern written all over his face.

"Dean! Dean!" I called but he didn't answer.

I paced around restlessly in the cell. The only reason Dean was here was that he was leverage. I knew this, there was no question about it- Michael already had Adam as his vessel so I knew they'd harm my brother in an attempt to get me to say the magic word.

I heard footsteps again and I tensed. Lucifer appeared outside my cell. His eyes traveled to the empty gallon jug still beneath the cot and smiled in a satisfied kind of way.

"I will never say it Lucifer," I said before he could speak, "you're wasting your time."

"We shall see," the Devil said and brushed invisible dust from his sleeve.

"You killed my family, you poisoned me-" I began but Lucifer interrupted.

"Now there, you see you're wrong. I did not poison you, I simply gave you the opportunity, it was your choice whether to drink the blood or not," Lucifer said, relieving himself of the blame.

I opened my mouth to protest that point but he opened the cell door and took my arm in his hand.

"Don't touch me!" I exclaimed and drew back. The blanket fell from my shoulders and I tried not to shiver, to show I was cold.

Lucifer took a step back, motioned with his hand 'shall we?'

Warily I stepped out of the cell and we walked down the hall in the direction the demons had brought Dean.

At the end of the hall was a room, it must have been some sort of staff room for the guards or something because it was large and although it had the same dismal colours as the rest of the jail, I saw three round tables, chairs and a dark blue couch with stuffing and springs sticking out of it.

Dean was in this room, he sat stiffly on the couch with Raphael standing close by.

"I thought I smelled your stink," I said to the archangel.

Raphael frowned, looking like he'd enjoy killing me on the spot but he didn't.

"I am going to make this simple for you Sam," Lucifer said as he closed the door.

"Say yes or Raphael here will kill your brother," the Devil said.

"Don't do it Sam!" Dean said.

I leveled my gaze at Lucifer, "no."

Lucifer inclined his head and I watched as Dean fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

I clenched my hands into fists but said nothing.

Cas! Abdiel! Now would be a good time to make an appearance!

Dean's convulsions worsened- he began to froth at the mouth and his lips began to turn blue.

I closed my eyes.

Castiel! Abdiel! Please, I can't do this on my own!

I could hear Dean gasping for air.

I trembled with the stress- I knew I couldn't say yes but I didn't want Dean to suffer and die because of me.

"Please," I whispered.

I opened my eyes and saw blood gushing from my brother's nose and mouth.

No. I already had enough innocent blood on my hands.

I'm sorry Dean, I thought, please forgive me.

"Stop," I whispered.

"What was that?" Lucifer asked.

"Stop it! Stop it! Yes! Yes! Just stop hurting him!" I shouted at Raphael.

Dean stopped seizing and laid still, his eyes rolled up and I wasn't sure if he was alive or not.

I lowered my head, "I'm sorry Dean."

I closed my eyes and waited for Lucifer to take possession of my body… but that didn't happen.

I opened my eyes and I was no longer in the old jail in Salmon, Idaho. Instead I was standing in the middle of a cemetery.

"What… just happened?" I asked out loud but I received no answer.

It was dark, probably the middle of the night or very early morning.

Where am I? I thought and suddenly, even in the dark, realized where I was.

I was back in Stull Cemetery.

I looked down at the grass between my sneakers and saw I was standing at the exact spot where I had taken my leap into Lucifer's Cage almost four years ago now.

My heart pounded with fear. I needed to get out of here. I turned toward the entrance and began walking quickly. I was a fair ways from the exit- the spot where I had fallen was in a far corner of the graveyard, in a lesser used area.

I had begun walking past headstones when a sound behind me caused me to stop in my tracks.

It sounded like the earth was breaking open. I turned to look to see a rift had appeared in the lawn- sickly yellow light spilled forth into the still night and I caught a whiff of sulfur and heard the sound of distant screams.

Over the screams I heard another sound- an eerie howl that chilled me to my bones and raised the hair on the back of my neck.

I started running as fast as I could. I dodged the larger gravestones and leapt over the smaller ones.

I heard the pounding of heavy paws behind me and I could smell the terrible stench of burning fur and flesh.

The Hellhound was quickly gaining speed and closing in. If I could just reach the gates of the cemetery I could lock the monster inside and get away.

I went flying as I tripped over a low grave and landed heavily on my stomach, the air knocked from my lungs.

I scrambled to my feet and took off running again- the air burned in my lungs but I couldn't stop.

I chanced a glance behind me and wished I hadn't.

I had never seen what a Hellhound looks like and now I knew why their victims were terrified of them (other than the fact that a giant spectral dog of Hell was intent on tearing them to shreds).

This Hellhound was large, about the size of a Great Dane with a black coat that smoldered as though on fire. Patches of the hound's flesh would burn away to reveal muscle, tendons and bone before reforming only to burn again, over and over.

Strings of white saliva flew from the Hellhound's open maw, past sharp, jagged teeth and its yellow eyes glowed like hellfire.

I could see the open gates of the cemetery just ahead and I forced myself to run faster.

Almost there, I thought with hope.

I ran right into the iron gates of the cemetery with such force that I fell backwards.

"No, no, no," I gasped.

They were just open, they were, and now they were closed and locked tight.

"Shit. Please no," I panted and shook the vertical bars, a chain and a padlock fastened the gate shut.

"Hey! Help me!" I shouted.

"Help! He- GAH!" I cried out as the Hellhound leapt and dug its razor sharp claws into my back.

I arched my back and the Hellhound ripped its claws out. I could feel hot blood running down my back. I fell to the ground and rolled painfully onto my back.

The Hellhound seemed to tower over me. I could smell it: sulfur, rotten meat and stale earth.

I gagged at the smell.

The Hellhound ducked its head to bite but I raised my arm. Jaws like a steel-trap closed around my forearm with terrifying strength.

The hound bit down and I gasped in pain as its teeth scraped against bone.

The Hellhound stared down at me with a malignant intelligence in its eyes and twisted my arm in its mouth- I howled in pain as my shoulder dislocated.

I raised a foot and kicked the hound in the snout. The monster shook its head, causing pain to rush through my body but it didn't let go of my arm.

I gathered my strength and kicked it again, aiming for its large, yellow eye.

The Hellhound released my arm but grabbed my sneakered foot in its mouth instead.

I cried out as the hound bit deep into my ankle.

It shook its massive head and I was sure it was going to tear my foot off.

The Hellhound dropped my foot- it fell uselessly to the ground and pain jolted up my leg all the way to my groin.

I closed my eyes and waited for the Hellhound to kill me. It didn't though. Once again I opened my eyes and I was lying prone on the glassy floor of the strange foggy way station that belonged to Phobetor.

I couldn't even move I was in so much pain. Agonizingly I drew my injured arm closer to my body with my good arm.

I froze when I heard an odd shifting sound. What was that? I thought with terror.

Phobetor appeared, tall and menacing, wearing the same hat and coat I had first seen him in. On his feet he wore cowboy boots with spurs that jingled musically.

"You lost me my prey," Phobetor hissed and bent down, grabbed me by the front of my shirt and threw me.

I gasped in agony as I landed with my full weight on my injured arm- sure I had broken the bones now.

Tears streamed down my face.

Phobetor walked toward me and as he did so he changed. His body elongated, losing his clothes but gaining tiny, tightly packed diamond shaped scales. His head flattened and became triangular.

In seconds I was staring at the cold eyes of a large snake.

It quickly coiled itself around me, pressing my injured arm against my side.

Phobetor hissed and continued to squeeze.

I couldn't breathe.

Phobetor was relentless.

I gasped as I felt some of my ribs break.

I was going to die.

Suddenly, a bright light cut through the darkness.

I closed my eyes against the white light. What was happening now?

Phobetor hissed and recoiled, dumping me onto the floor in his attempt to flee.

"Sam," a familiar voice said.

"Open your eyes," the voice commanded.

I opened my eyes a crack and the light dimmed enough so that I could see the silhouette of a man.

"Abdiel?" I said in a voice barely a whisper.

"Wake up Sam," Abdiel said.

"But… the others…" I stammered. I felt blood seep from the corner of my mouth and could taste it coppery in the back of my throat.

"I will make sure they are safe," Abdiel said, "now wake up."

The angel's raptor gaze followed the Greek god like an eagle tracking its prey.

"Wake up Sam!" Abdiel demanded loudly.

"Sammy, wake up!" Dean's voice came from a distance.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," the angel and my brother's voice merged into a kind of chant.

I closed my eyes once more, for the last time; I told myself and slipped into twilight.


	23. Brighter Than A Thousand Suns

The meeting room was large, cavernous almost. There was a beige shag carpet on the floor, the long, rectangular table was made of mahogany and grey granite and the floor to ceiling windows showed a view of skyscrapers that might have been from New York.

The majority of men and women seated at the table all looked to the figure at its head. He was a young man who couldn't be more than eighteen years old. He had bright blue eyes and light brown hair. He wore blue jeans, dark brown hiking boots, a dark blue button-up shirt with long sleeves and a grey jacket. Despite his youthful appearance he had an unmistakable air of confidence and arrogance about him.

Abdiel lounged with his hands clasped across his chest, fingers entwined. His chair was pushed onto its back legs and the angel's feet rested upon the tabletop. His paperboy hat sat low on his brow, obscuring his face as he pretended to sleep.

Castiel, on the other hand, sat ramrod straight in his seat across from his friend; his tan trench coat flowed out behind him like a cape.

These three angels: Abdiel, Castiel and Michael were the only ones to look out of place in the board room- the others all wore severe expressions and suits.

"Am I boring you, Abdiel?" Michael spoke to the angel in his British vessel.

Abdiel peeked out from under his hat, "no, no Michael. I find your war stratagems fascinating, carry on."

Abdiel ignored Castiel who was desperately trying to catch his eye.

"Perhaps we should…" Abdiel heard Bath Kol begin but he tuned her out.

He was no use to Michael here, really. He was no good at war games, in fact, he hated war altogether. He hated the idea of siblings fighting and killing one another in the name of some long forgotten ideology. The idea of it seemed all too… human. Even though the angels were waging war when Adam and Eve were still living the good life in Eden, the human species seemed to have acquired a knack for killing each other, they did it well and it didn't look like they'd be stopping any time soon.

Abdiel liked the humans though; he could see why God thought so highly of them. It was the Free Will that made them unique and he preferred their company over that of his own family. Humans were generally happy, spontaneous creatures whereas the angels waited patiently for the next order, the next mission, the next mindless task to complete.

Abdiel wished Castiel had never dragged him into this meeting- it felt like it was all about Michael. How is Michael going to defeat Raphael? How is Michael going to treat their fallen brethren who wished to redeem themselves or remain as exiles?

Michael. Michael. Michael.

The archangel sure loved the limelight. His pompous attitude actually sickened Abdiel slightly.

Castiel hadn't wanted to sit in the board room with Michael, especially after that controversial Molotov cocktail incident.

Abdiel didn't know why Castiel would worry though; Michael had bigger fish to fry- fish named Raphael and Belial.

Although Michael had seemed to forgive, or rather, gloss over the fact that Castiel had attacked him with Holy Fire, the archangel wasn't so ready to forget that Sam Winchester had ruined his chance to 'fulfill his destiny'.

Abdiel knew it pissed Michael off to no end that Lucifer had been thwarted by a lowly human, and a lowly abomination of a human at that.

Not that Abdiel considered Sam an abomination. The angel quite liked the shy young man who was modest about his wins and felt genuine guilt for his mistakes.

They didn't see many humans like that these days.

Abdiel listened to his fellows angels propose ideas or bicker over them.

Castiel said nothing. Like Abdiel he simply listened and waited.

Gzrel was adamantly against allowing any of the fallen angels back into Heaven.

"They do not deserve redemption, their fate was sealed the moment they agreed with Lucifer," Gzrel said. His vessel was a middle aged man with greased black hair and a pencil moustache. He wore an expensive dark blue suit.

Abdiel spoke up this time, "I think our brothers and sisters who are heartily sorry and have seen the error of their ways should be allowed back into the fold. After all, to forgive is divine." He had taken his hat off his face and placed it back onto the top of his head.

Gzrel bristled, "you're one to talk Abdiel. We all know whose side you were on in the first battle."

"Are you trying to accuse me of something?" Abdiel sat up and turned his bird of prey gaze upon his brother.

Gzrel opened his mouth to speak but Michael cut him off.

"Abdiel has long shown whose side he is on, Gzrel; he saw that he was wrong before many of our siblings and fought with us."

Abdiel didn't really like Michael speaking for him- the archangel couldn't and would never know his reasons for why he had sided with Lucifer in the first place, nor why he switched- but he let it go this time for the sake of tact.

Michael looked at each of the board members in turn, "I am willing to forgive and allow a second chance for those who seek it."

He just wants to swell our ranks, Abdiel thought with slight bitterness.

Once again Abdiel drowned out the words of the other angels. He had his eyes closed but he was not asleep, for angels do not sleep, when he felt the bond he shared with Sam Winchester strain.

Abdiel opened one eye. He felt the bond give another twitch, straining to keep them connected. He kept his face a perfect mask of placidity but caught Castiel's eye.

The bond gave a mighty tug and Abdiel knew something was definitely wrong.

"Back in two shakes," Abdiel said and before Michael or Castiel could react, he disappeared.

SPN

"Sammy, wake up!" I shouted in my brother's ear and shook him.

I had been sleeping when I heard Sam cry out and turned on the light to the sight of my brother writing in pain, wounds appearing on his body as though he was attacked by an invisible menace.

I stared wide-eyed at my brother. I didn't know what was happening to him. I didn't know what to do.

"Dean!" I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"What's happening to him?" I asked Abdiel how had appeared in our motel room looking exactly the same as ever.

"I'll deal with the enemy, you deal with the blood," Abdiel said by way of instruction and disappeared.

Seconds later Sam's eyes snapped open and he cried out in pain. His eyes were glazed with agony.

"Hold on Sammy," I said, ran to the bathroom and grabbed all of the towels, hand towels and face cloths in the place and rushed to help my brother.

Sam was shaking visibly.

"Hold on, hold on," I muttered as I wrapped a towel around my brother's arm.

He cried out as I tried to stretch his injured arm out and bring it closer to myself, "sorry, sorry," I muttered.

Blood quickly soaked through the white towel, staining it crimson.

Sam's breathes came in short, urgent gasps- broken ribs was my guess.

I wrapped towels around his injured foot and paused before I realized that Sam's back was torn all to hell and was bleeding all over the bed sheets.

Sam closed his eyes.

"Hey, no, no you don't," I said and flicked his face.

Sam moaned but didn't open his eyes, "open your eyes Sammy. Don't you go to sleep on me."

"C'mon Sammy, talk to me," I demanded.

I noticed that his lower lip was split and swollen.

I worked to replace the towels that were soaked through with blood but realized that soon I would run out.

"What are you doing Abdiel?" I said out loud.

I knew I could not help Sam. He needed to go to a hospital but I didn't know how to get him from the bed to the Impala. He was too out of it to walk there himself, even if I was supporting him to keep weight off his injured foot we'd never make it out to the car.

I peeled a towel soaking with blood from his arm and dropped it onto the floor. I grimaced at the sight of the wound. It looked like he'd been bitten by some sort of animal and whatever it was had been strong- its teeth had easily sheared through skin and muscle. Through the blood I caught a glimpse of the radius and ulna- the creature's teeth had actually chipped chunks from the bone, leaving soft marrow exposed.

I felt nauseous and looked away for a moment.

I didn't even try to take a peek at Sam's foot.

I lifted up Sam's shirt and through the blood I could see dark, ugly bruises on his ribs.

"Jesus Christ Sam, what did this to you?" I asked.

It was obvious that lying on his back was causing Sam extreme distress but I was afraid to roll him over onto his stomach.

I knew that if Abdiel didn't appear again soon, Sam would die. There was no way he could survive this much blood loss- I was doing my best but I could only do so much.

As I tended Sam to the best of my abilities I couldn't help but think of a request I had asked of Cas during the time Sam was being held prisoner by Raphael.

It had been about two weeks since Sam's kidnapping and I was trying desperately to keep my mind occupied. I was lying on Bobby's couch reading a battered copy of Watership Down I had found on the old hunter's bookshelf. The book wasn't too bad actually- for a book about rabbits.

Cas appeared in the living room with a morose expression that told me he and Abdiel were no closer to finding Sam than when they had first set out on their rescue mission.

"Cas," I said quietly and hesitated. I set the book open on my chest to save my page and looked at the angel.

"Yes Dean," Cas had said in his gravelly voice made even more so with emotion.

"If it's too late to find Sam… and he's…. dead," I began. I saw Bobby move from the kitchen where he was working to stand in the doorway.

"If Sam's gone… where do you think he'll be?" I asked.

"You mean will he go to Heaven or Hell?" Cas asked to clarify as if he needed to.

"Yeah," I said.

"I don't know Dean," Cas admitted.

"How can you not know! You're an angel," I exclaimed.

"I am not high enough in the ranks to know such things," Cas apologized.

"Make an educated guess then," I said.

"Dean-" Cas began but I interrupted.

"Please!"

Cas looked uncomfortable, "the odds are stacked against your brother. He has made some near-devastating mistakes in the past that certainly will not be taken lightly."

"But everyone makes mistakes! That doesn't earn them a one-way ticket to Hell!" I said.

"Not everyone releases the Devil into the world, either Dean," Cas said sadly.

"But, it was a mistake, and Sam sent Lucifer back to Hell," I stammered.

"I know that and you know that," Cas began, "and we both know that for all Sam's mistakes he tries to repair the damage he causes… but a celestial judge may not be so understanding."

"But… but…" I stuttered.

"There are angels who would see your brother in Hell for his alleged crimes without a second thought," Cas said.

"You have to do something Cas! Put a good word in for Sam or whatever but don't let him go to the Pit!" I demanded.

"It does not work like that, I wish it did but my words will have no sway over the decision," Cas said.

I took a deep steadying breath.

"If Sam dies and goes to Hell-" I started but Cas interrupted.

"Dean," he said in a slightly urgent voice.

"I want you to go down there and get Sam back yourself!" It wasn't much of a threat, I knew. Cas could just do for Sam as he'd done for me, pull my brother's soul right out of Hell and stuff it back into his body but I knew that Cas's superiors wouldn't be keen on him undertaking an unauthorized retrieval of Sam from Hell or whatever and the angel seemed to know it too because he nodded.

"I will do everything in my power Dean to make sure Sam never goes to Hell again," he promised and vanished without another word.

Now, though, in a tiny motel room in Louisiana with Sam loosing what seemed to be gallons of blood, I returned abruptly from Memory Lane when I heard my brother stop breathing.

"Shit! No you don't Sammy!" I said and pressed down on his chest.

"C'mon Sam, breathe!" I shouted at him as I continued to attempt to resuscitate him.

"C'mon Sam, don't be a pussy, don't give up on me like this," I said.

"Goddammit Sam!" I shouted in my brother's face but received no response.

Not after everything I did for you, I thought fiercely, you're not backing out this early in the game.

"Dean, step back," I heard a commanding voice and saw Abdiel, looking no worse for wear despite whatever he'd been doing.

"He's not breathing," I said and stepped to the end of Sam's bed.

"Aye, I know," Abdiel looked down at Sam's blood soaked body.

He leaned over Sam and put the first two finger of his right hand on my brother's forehead.

Sam's eyes opened and he gasped. He sat up and looked around confused.

"Abdiel?" Sam asked, "what are you doing here? You… you were in my dream?"

"I took care of that pesky little Greek god of yours," Abdiel said and took a step back.

"Phobetor's dead?" I asked.

"Aye, mate, as a doornail," Abdiel smiled slightly.

"What about his victims?" Sam asked.

"Well, those who were alive are safely tucked into their beds," Abdiel answered.

"Abdiel… thank you…" Sam said with a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"Think nothing of it," Abdiel waved away the comment.

"Oh, when you decide to get yourself mortally wounded, think twice because next time I may not be able to come as quickly," Abdiel said.

"Don't worry, I think I've had my fill of life-threatening situations for a while," Sam said.

Abdiel nodded, "sadly, I must part with your most intriguing company to go have Sunday dinner with my family."

Abdiel took a step forward and disappeared in a rush of warm air.

As soon as the angel was gone I scrambled to Sam's side.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, sounding a little dazed.

I saw that his arm was healed as though he had never been bitten at all but I carefully peeled the towel away from his foot to see the same.

I grabbed a handful of Sam's shirt and checked his ribs and back.

No gaping claw marks down his back and the bruises were gone- only the scar from the Seraph Blade remained.

"Dean!" Sam pushed my hand away, "I'm fine."

"What about the fever?" I asked.

"I feel great," Sam said, "besides being covered in blood."

He stood and made his way to the bathroom and shut the door. Minutes later the door opened a crack and Sam deposited his bloody clothes on the floor and closed the door again.

"Guess I'll clean up the mess then," I muttered but I wasn't really bothered by it. I would gladly clean up this than my brother's lifeless body.

I gathered all the towels and Sam's clothes, stripped the bedclothes off the mattress and stuffed everything into a large garbage bag.

I peeled off my own bloody clothes and put on an olive green t-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. I put my soiled clothes into the bag as well- they were ruined now.

I grabbed the keys to the Impala, stepped outside, opened the car's trunk and put the bag inside. I saw a maid making her rounds and when she went into one of the rooms I stole fresh sheets from her cart and sat them inside our room. I put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob and got into the Impala.

I drove through Lafayette until I came to a deserted alley with an open dumpster within easy reach. It was early morning and I knew no one would be up so I backed the Impala up so that she almost blocked the alley. I slipped between her bumper and the brick wall of some Mexican restaurant, opened the trunk and pulled the garbage bag out as well as a can of gasoline and a book of matches.

I heaved the bag up into the dumpster, poured some gas onto the debris and lit a match. I watched the tiny blue-yellow flame burn for a moment and smelled sulfur and then I tossed the match into the dumpster and was satisfied to hear the familiar wumph as the flames met the gasoline.

Casually, I walked out of the alley, got back into the car and then drove around to find some place that I could grab some food at. I knew the residents wouldn't wake up for a while and hopefully the burning dumpster wouldn't be discovered until its contents were nothing more than ashes.

SPN

Abdiel appeared beside Castiel. The angel was sitting on a bench in his favourite version of Heaven: the eternal Sunday Afternoon-In-The-Park that belonged to an autistic man. Abdiel took a seat beside Castiel and took a deep breath of the warm summer air.

"Did I miss anything important?" Abdiel asked.

"Michael questioned me as to where you had gone," Castiel answered.

"Wot did you say?" Abdiel asked and leaned his elbows on his knees.

"I lied," Castiel answered, "I said that Astoreth had summoned you with news about Belial."

"Thanks for that, mate," Abdiel said and sat up to rest his back against the worn wood of the bench.

"Michael knows anyway, he is not stupid," Castiel pointed out.

"I didn't say he was," Abdiel answered.

The angel in his British vessel closed his eyes and relished the warmth of the sun on his face.

"Michael will surely try to come between you and Sam Winchester… especially if it appears you are more concerned with the boy than this war," Castiel continued.

Abdiel snorted derisive laughter.

"Michael's just jealous," he answered humorously.

"The others are beginning to wonder who exactly you are loyal to, Abdiel- your own family or the Sam Winchester," Castiel said and Abdiel opened his eyes to look into the other angel's light blue gaze.

"Castiel, you know I am loyal to you… and Michael by association. But I also feel the need to keep Sam safe," Abdiel answered.

"You know that Michael will ask you to choose between us or him," Castiel said.

"And?" Abdiel sensed the unspoken word.

"And I hope you make the right choice," Castiel finished.

"Castiel, are you listening to yourself? You're sounding like Michael or Gzrel. You need to loosen up Castiel," Abdiel commented.

"This is not a joke Abdiel, the future of Heaven is hanging on the outcome of this war and we need everyone to know their place, everyone," Castiel said forcefully.

Abdiel pinned the other angel with his brown-eyed hawk gaze, "don't you dare talk to me about knowing my place Castiel."

Castiel balked, "I apologize… I am just concerned that we will lose and we will not be safe, let alone Sam and Dean."

Abdiel sighed, "I know you are."

"What were you doing when you left in such a hurry," Castiel asked, less uptight now.

"Sam got himself into a spot of trouble and I wasn't particularly busy so I just popped in to lend a hand," Abdiel said as if that sort of thing happened regularly.

Castiel looked up, "what sort of trouble?"

"Got Phobetor hopping mad and almost got himself killed," Abdiel answered, "and I had to do something or Dean would have had my head if I let his brother die."

"You cannot keep interfering in their lives like this all the time," Castiel said.

"Not all the time, just when things start getting hairy," Abdiel said and brushed some yellow pollen from the sleeve of his greatcoat.

As soon as he had healed Sam Abdiel had felt the bond steady and strengthen. He knew that the bond would never break, even when the boy died it would still connect them because it wasn't an only a physical bond but a metaphysical one, more accurately it somehow bonded Sam's soul to him. Abdiel was well aware that some of his fellow angels, Michael in particular, were raring to see Sam Winchester go to Hell for his crimes and he felt a twinge of fear as to how the Pit would affect their bond.

Like Castiel, Abdiel had vowed to do everything in his power to prevent Sam from going to Hell.

"I think you need to relax a bit, Castiel, and I think I know just the place," Abdiel said and disappeared, followed by the other angel.

The two appeared inside of a pub. The floor, walls and ceiling were wooden, the bar housed dozens of different types of beer and there were a couple of green felt-covered pool tables.

"Where are we?" Castiel asked.

"My favourite Heaven," Abdiel smiled at the other angel.

Castiel knew what a bar was, he'd been to a few with Dean and Sam but he was curious to know why a human would have this 'dump' (a word taken from Dean's vocabulary that the angel had heard the boy use to describe a particularly unpleasant eating or drinking establishment) as one of his or her most fond memories.

A door in the back of the place opened and Ash stepped out, smiling when he saw Abdiel.

"Hey, I was wondering when you'd come by again," Ash said.

"I'm been a little tied up recently," Abdiel apologized.

"How're Sam and Dean?" Ash asked.

"They're doing well, and Michael has kept his distance from them and that's the best we can ask for right now," Abdiel answered.

"Who's your friend?" Ash asked, indicating the new angel.

"This is Castiel, he's-" Abdiel began but Ash moved forward, took hold of Castiel's hand and shook it.

"You're the one who saved Dean," Ash said, "whew, never thought I'd get to actually meet you in person."

Castiel looked slightly uncomfortable and let his hand drop limply to his side when the ex-MIT student released it.

"You know Dean?" Castiel asked.

"Of course I do! Even helped him out when he and Sam got stuck up here running away from that one angel who looked like some bank manager gone rogue," Ash said and turned to Abdiel.

"Zachariah," Cas answered even though Ash wasn't paying him attention.

"What can I do for you?" Ash asked.

"You can get me a beer," Abdiel said but he was smiling.

Castiel looked at his fellow angel.

"Don't look so surprised Castiel," Abdiel moved and sat on one of the stools at the bar.

Abdiel had come across Ash the first time he had returned to Heaven with Castiel. The angel was feeling a little homesick and had been pleased to find the Roadhouse.

He soon found out that Ash and the Winchesters went back a long way and the young man had been curious to know what had happened to his friends since he had last seen them.

The angel really liked the young man, he was smart but you'd never know it just by looking at him, what with his mullet, light washed blue jeans, leather boots and sleeveless red and black shirt.

Just another example of how you can't judge a book by its cover, Abdiel had thought when he'd first met the man.

Castiel stood in the middle of the room looking very out of place.

"C'mon Castiel, lighten up," Abdiel said, one hand wrapped around a bottle of beer.

Castiel moved to the bar and took a seat beside his friend.

"See, that wasn't too painful was it?" Abdiel taunted.

"Abdiel, we have pressing matters, we cannot just sit here and drink alcohol all day," Castiel said.

"We're not going to sit here all day and drink ourselves stupid… or you're not going to at least," Abdiel paused, he chuckled and Ash did the same.

"I'm having one drink and maybe bring one with me for the road," Abdiel promised.

Castiel couldn't help but look annoyed.

Abdiel sighed and took a swing of the beer. Castiel really, really needed to get rid of that stick up his ass. He needed to go back and spend some time with Dean.

"This place has got you with your head in the clouds, mate," Abdiel gestured widely.

Castiel looked at Abdiel, he didn't understand that phrase.

"You're starting to act like the others: emotionless robots that can only say 'yes ma'am' or 'no sir' and don't have an original thought in their bloody heads!" Abdiel explained.

Castiel looked insulted.

Abdiel turned to Ash, "have any luck finding John or Mary?"

Ash shook his head, "found Ellen and Jo easily enough but those two are still off the grid."

Abdiel nodded, "Keep trying. I'm sure they're here somewhere."

Abdiel finished his beer but decided not to take one along for the road.

The angel stood and stretched. The dark shadow of his wings spread out wide before folding neatly against his shoulder blades again, invisible once more.

"Thanks for the beer," Abdiel said and he and Castiel disappeared again.

Ash watched the spot where the angel had been only moments before.

He heard footsteps come up behind him and turned to see John Winchester.

"He a friend of my boys?" the hunter asked.

"He claims to be," Ash mused, "but I don't completely trust those guys."

Abdiel appeared once again in Castiel's preferred Heaven.

"What was the point of that?" Castiel turned to the other angel.

"I needed a break from being a warrior of God," Abdiel said, "and I felt like visiting a friend, is that a crime?"

"No, but you must remember what you are Abdiel and why you are here," Castiel said.

"Oh, and would you remind me why I'm here because I seem to have forgotten?" Abdiel said in a testy tone.

"You're here to…to…" the angel hesitated.

"I'm useless Castiel, I don't have any purpose here, Michael doesn't need me, you don't need me. All I'm doing is filling that archangel's quota for soldiers," Abdiel insisted.

Before Castiel could reply a third angel appeared. His vessel was an elderly Chinese man with a long, white beard and wisps of grey hair.

"What is it Ezekiel?" Abdiel asked.

The angel looked to Castiel, "Michael has requested your presence."

Castiel looked at Abdiel, "don't let me keep you," the British angel said and watched as the two angels vanished.

Abdiel sighed and lay down on his back in the sun-warmed grass beneath his feet. He could smell fresh lawn clippings, flowers and dust.

He closed his eyes. He didn't belong up here, he wanted to go back to Earth and be with Sam and Dean- he wanted to be where he was needed.

As Abdiel's thoughts drifted they turned to the past- he thought about the first battle and how it had come about:

Abdiel, along with all the other angels had just been told by God of His new creations- two creatures called humans whom He named Adam and Eve.

Abdiel remembered his curiosity at the tiny creatures, how he thought they intrigued him. They seemed carefree creatures, happy and innocent. For many days Adam and Eve lived peacefully in Eden, gathering the food they needed to eat from the available plants- fruit from trees or berries from bushes- and living in harmony with the other creatures that inhabited the garden.

Abdiel remembered how he had come upon Lucifer watching the humans, a sneer clear on his face.

Abdiel paused, standing beside his brother, trying to figure out the cause of his sibling's expression.

The angels looked down and saw Adam and Eve, running, frolicking really, laughing and shouting to one another happily.

Abdiel watched as the two humans leapt into a pool of water and began splashing.

"Is something wrong, brother?" Abdiel finally had to ask.

"Yes," Lucifer said in a tense voice.

The angel never took his eyes from the sight below.

"The humans-" Abdiel began but Lucifer snorted in disgust.

"The humans! The humans! That is all anyone talks about! That is all God talks about! 'Look how wonderful they are!' or 'Are they not my most magnificent creation?'" Lucifer growled.

"Lucifer, they are new, of course everyone is going to talk about them," Abdiel said.

"You don't see it do you?" the other angel asked.

"See what, brother?" Abdiel asked.

"They are… flawed," Lucifer said.

Abdiel leaned over as if to get a better look at the two humans who were now eating handfuls of almonds while the sun and wind dried them off from their swim.

"I see no defects," Abdiel said.

Lucifer frowned, "their faults are not on the outside, Abdiel, they are on the inside."

Abdiel was confused at his brother's answer, "if they have faults then it is only because our Father wished it so."

"That's not the point! Did you not listen to Him? God wants us to love them better than Him!" Lucifer said, exasperated that he wasn't getting through to the other angel.

"I heard Him Lucifer," Abdiel said quietly.

"What do you believe?" Lucifer asked.

"I believe that if God asked us to love the humans more than Himself then who are we to question Him?" Abdiel answered.

Lucifer shouted in fury, "you don't see it do you? They will be the end of us!" As he spoke his pointed an accusatory finger at the offending creatures.

Abdiel was shocked that Lucifer would say such things.

"Lucifer, think about what you are saying," Abdiel cautioned.

"I am."

"Look at them down there Abdiel, take a good long look and you will see what I am talking about," Lucifer placed a hand on Abdiel's back as if to shove him but he did not.

Abdiel peered closely at the humans- they had not changed from the last time he had looked at them, only moments ago.

Abdiel squinted as though to get a better view. He didn't know what Lucifer was talking about-

He saw wars, fierce battles in which no lives were spared. He saw humans inventing terrible weapons, not to defend themselves with, no, but to kill each other with.

He saw murders and rapists and child molesters. He saw men fighting and killing one another in the name of God-

He saw generations of humans enslaved by their own kind on flimsy principles that no one questioned for years. He saw men presuming to know the will of God- false Prophets who only spread lies and hate-

He saw blood and fear and death. Centuries and centuries of it. There seemed to be no ending to it. He couldn't believe that the descendents of Adam and Eve would act in such a way.

Why-

He saw Eve as she approached a certain tree in Eden. The forbidden tree. The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. He watched as she plucked a fruit from its branches; appear to be deciding what to do before taking a bite-

Abdiel looked at Lucifer in shock.

The other angel gave him a knowing look, "the others refuse to see the truth of them."

"No, that can't be right," Abdiel said.

"It is true Abdiel- that is what the humans will become: arrogant, murderous, sinful creatures who will forget God, forsaking and profaning His name," Lucifer said.

"But… if that is what the humans will become, why does God love them so much?" Abdiel asked.

"I do not know, brother, but I will not sit idly by and watch the humans destroy themselves," Lucifer said.

"What are you going to do?" Abdiel asked.

Lucifer looked down, not at the humans, but at the great tree that stood in the center of the garden. He appeared to be pondering his actions.

"It is clear to me that our Father is no longer fit to rule Heaven if He would create such corrupt creatures as humans," Lucifer spoke slowly.

Abdiel thought for a second and then he realized what Lucifer was saying.

"No, Lucifer. You cannot do that! It has never been done. How can you even think of doing such a thing?" Abdiel exclaimed.

Lucifer was going to rebel against God.

"There must be another way, brother," Abdiel said, almost frantically now.

"Speak to Him, yes, Lucifer you are His favourite- He will listen to you," Abdiel suggested.

Lucifer just shook his head sadly, "He will not listen, even to me, or Michael or any of the others. He is set in His ways."

"Don't do this brother," Abdiel pleaded.

Lucifer looked at Abdiel and vanished.

Abdiel didn't move. He stared down at the two humans. He didn't want to believe they were as evil as Lucifer said. He thought that they were one of God's greatest creations- their Free Will separating them from the angels. But, still they were small and weak compared to even the lowest ranking seraphim and Abdiel thought that above all the humans needed to be protected- from whom or what he didn't know exactly but he knew they would not be able to survive on their own, without some kind of guidance.

Abdiel had never known Lucifer to lie so why would he start now? Surely there must be truth in his words. The angel felt torn though- he felt the desire to obey God but he also abhorred the idea of seeing His creation come to no good end.

Abdiel knew that everything happened for a reason and that if God did something it wasn't his place to question it.

The angel took his gaze from the humans and took a steadying breath. He had made his choice.

Abdiel fought. He killed his brothers and sisters. In the midst of battle he had completely forgotten exactly why he was fighting. His mind was blank of all thought; he didn't want to think about what he was doing.

The Empyrean was soaked with blood, angel blood. He clutched a Blade in his hand, lashing out at anyone who came too close. He saw millions of angels, some he knew and many he didn't.

He saw Raphael and Uriel and Gabriel. Where was Michael?

Abdiel's arms were coated in blood up to the elbows, his wings dripped with it. All he could hear was the dying cries of his brethren.

In the midst of battle Abdiel paused and looked down. He saw Adam and Eve, so recently exiled from Eden. The two humans clambered over the rocky, barren landscape. He saw they held hands, helping each other. They wore clothes of animal skins to cover their nakedness. They did not seem sad though. He sensed from them a determination to start their lives over- to make the best of their situation.

Abdiel looked closer and saw-

Lilith, Adam's helpmate. She was dead, that much was clear but she was not in Heaven, where God had said the souls of humans would travel to when their mortal bodies perished. Lilith was in a dark place… a place that could be burning, searing hot or bitterly cold, freezing. She was alone. The first human in this dark place.

He saw others in this place, not humans though, fellow angels. Their light filled bodies contorting in pain upon a burning lake.

His attention focused on Lilith again. There was a presence, close to her, a hate-filled being that tortured the woman's soul- pain and fear and hate transforming it. The soul lost its bright luster and turned dark as its surroundings. All humanity had been wiped from it.

What creature would do such a thing to a human soul?

Who could desecrate something so extraordinary in such a way?

He saw Eve at the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. He watched as she approached the tree, placed a hand against its sturdy trunk. She paused, talking to something or someone.

Abdiel saw a large serpent wrapped around one of the Tree's lower branches. The snake was speaking to Eve!

'It is alright, my dear,' the snake hissed.

'But we are forbidden from eating the fruit from this tree,' Abdiel heard Eve answer.

The serpent chuckled good-naturedly. Something was wrong- it should not be able to speak.

'Did God tell you why you are not allowed to eat from this Tree?" the snake asked.

There was something eerily familiar about the snake but Abdiel didn't know what it was.

"He told us that if we ate its fruit that we would die,' Eve said and took a step backwards.

'God, in His infinite wisdom, does not want you or Adam to eat of this Tree because if you do you will be like Him,' the snake said softly.

'But we shall die!' Eve exclaimed.

'You will not die, Eve, I promise you. I have eaten the fruit from this Tree and it had not harmed me- it gave me the ability to speak to you,' the snake insisted.

Eve looked unsure of whether she should trust the serpent.

'Trust me…' the snake hissed, pinning the woman with its gaze.

'I am not lying to you,' the snake said, 'I would never lie to you.'

The snake watched eagerly as Eve took a fruit from the Tree and took a bite.

Lucifer! Abdiel realized who the serpent was. No, it wasn't true. He would never do such a thing!

Once again Abdiel saw human history, all the blood spilt, all the death and misery. All because the serpent, Lucifer, had tricked Eve.

But wait… there was something else. Abdiel saw the other side of humans- he saw their compassion and mercy and hope. He saw humanitarian missions, aid workers helping those in need, police officers and firefighters, doctors saving lives.

He saw that the humans' capacity to love outweighed their proficiency for hate.

He saw that not all humans were evil; he saw that many tried to do the right thing, and he felt his heart break for those who were genuinely good.

His gaze flicked back to that dark place and saw millions, billions of human souls. He saw the tortured and the torturers.

He heard Lucifer speak 'It is better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven'-

Abdiel looked up; he had forgotten he stood in the middle of a battlefield. He looked around and this time saw Michael.

The archangel was fighting with Lucifer. Abdiel saw the expression on Lucifer's face and realized his mistake. He realized that his brother was not concerned at all that they would become cast off by God, no, he hated the humans and he was envious of God. Lucifer's thoughts were only of himself and he didn't care what he had to do, who he had to hurt to succeed in his endeavor.

Abdiel turned away from the sight of Lucifer and Michael and walked across the field. He walked toward the Gabriel and Raphael and Uriel. He had chosen the wrong side but there was still time to make amends- If only for the sake of the humans.

Abdiel opened his eyes. He was staring right into the sun. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and recall where he was- Castiel's preferred slice of Heaven.

He remembered that Castiel had been called away by their fearless leader, leaving him to dwell upon the past.

"Bloody sot," Abdiel muttered and sat up, brushing grass from his clothes.

Abdiel stood and stretched his wings out behind himself- their shadows appeared on the lawn behind him although they remained invisible and incorporeal.

He thought about this coming war and didn't know how to feel. Michael and Raphael were vying for power- two powerful archangels were on the verge of attacking one another, throwing Heaven into chaos once more- and Belial, he claimed he just wanted back into Heaven but Abdiel knew there must be more on his agenda than that.

One of Abdiel's siblings appeared before him- the angel's vessel was a girl, not quite nine years old, with long light brown hair and large brown eyes in a round face.

"Ariel," Abdiel nodded curtly.

"Michael wishes to speak to you," Ariel said in a little girl's voice but with authority that would not be found in any girl.

"Here we go again," Abdiel muttered and followed Ariel as the two of them vanished and reappeared in Michael's CEO Heaven.

The only angels in attendance now were the archangel, Castiel, Ezekiel, Ariel and now Abdiel.

"You rang," Abdiel said and stepped forward to where Michael was seated.

"You are required to act as an emissary between us and the fallen angels who wish to return," Michael said.

"You think they'll listen to me, do you?" Abdiel asked.

Michael nodded, "they will feel more… comfortable speaking to you than to me."

"So you think that because I fought on their side during a good portion of the battle they'll give me the time of day?" Abdiel asked.

"That was the idea, yes," Michael said and leaned forward, trying to pin Abdiel with his light blue eyes.

Abdiel barked a laugh, "I'm the last bloke they'd want to talk to! Have you forgotten that I turned tail and ducked behind your lines? They'll say I betrayed them. No one else followed my lead and the whole lot of them ended up in Hell with Lucifer."

Abdiel didn't know what the archangel was thinking- Michael knew that the rebel angels, whether they wished to get back in God's good graces or not, would not talk to him- he was a traitor in their eyes.

Some of the fallen angels had already been accepted into Heaven during the turmoil resulting from Lucifer's death but many had not.

Abdiel sighed, "wot are you going to do once they get back into Heaven?"

"They will fight against Raphael and Belial," Michael said simply.

"Uh huh," Abdiel said and looked over at Castiel.

"I think this is getting out of control, Michael, I think you're losing control of the situation," Abdiel said and the archangel bristled.

"And what would you propose we do than, Abdiel?" Michael asked snidely.

"We cannot fight another war, Michael, I know you're just itching for one but we will not survive another battle like the Empyrean-" Abdiel began but Michael interrupted him.

"I am the one who makes the decisions here, Abdiel! It is my duty to maintain a semblance of order!" Michael slammed a fist down on the tabletop hard enough to crack the granite.

Abdiel shook his head, "that's your problem, that's Raphael's problem: the two of you think you can do wot God did, you believe you have wot it takes to do His job."

Castiel looked stricken that his friend would speak to Michael in such a manner. Even if he thought the same way he would never dare to voice his opinions to the archangel- Castiel knew how powerful he was.

Michael's face turned red with rage.

"We need to find the one person who's the best fit for the position Michael. We need to find God. There is just no way any angel can fill His shoes," Abdiel continued, throwing caution to the wind.

The angel did not want Michael to rule just as much as he didn't want Raphael to. Both archangels were arrogant pricks and now they wanted to resurrect Lucifer and no doubt continue with the Apocalypse. Abdiel knew that Sam Winchester would remain at the center of it all- he'd have to confront three angels and he doubted the human, no matter how strong he may seem, was not that strong. Abdiel knew that Sam would fail. The angel didn't believe it would be any fault of the boy's but there was only so many times he could say 'no' especially if the angels decided to use his loved ones as bargaining chips in their twisted game.

Abdiel did not want this war for his siblings' sake as much as Sam and Dean's sakes. Everything the Winchester had worked so hard to gain would be taken away from them in the blink of an eye and Abdiel would not be able to live with himself if he did nothing to prevent it.

"God. Is. Dead," Michael said slowly, his blue eyes like ice.

"You can't honestly believe that can you? We'd be able to feel it if He was really gone and you know it. God may be on an extended sabbatical but not dead," Abdiel said and he saw Castiel shaking his head at him- 'Don't say any more' that action said.

Michael stood, hackles raised, "do you presume to know more than I?"

The archangel approached Abdiel, looking like he would lash out at the lower ranking seraphim.

"If you mean the fact that I know our Father is not dead, than yes, I do," Abdiel said in a slightly smug way.

Michael raised a hand as if to strike Abdiel but paused, his hand still in the air, "this is about the Winchesters isn't it?"

Abdiel nodded, looking in no way concerned about his brother's impending violence towards him.

Michael ground his teeth and lowered his fist, "you told them didn't you? You told them about Raphael's plan to resurrect Lucifer! You couldn't keep your mouth shut. You are more loyal to that disgusting, filthy worm than to your own family."

"Well, if you put it that way," Abdiel smiled at Michael.

"And I just thought you'd been spending too much time on Earth and had forgotten what it was like to be an angel but now I see I have it all wrong- you saved Sam Winchester from Hell when Castiel was forbidden to and now all you can think about is that…human," Michael said.

"I care about what is going to happen here Michael but since Sam Winchester is still tied to that, I don't have any choice," Abdiel said.

Michael snickered, "I should have known. I should have seen right away that you would rebel against me."

Abdiel paused.

"You must choose Abdiel; will you throw your lot in with the Winchesters or remain true to your real family?" Michael asked and waited for the angel to answer.

Abdiel didn't think it was much of a choice. He sighed and looked at Castiel.

The other angel looked at him and saw the expression on his face.

"I will protect Sam Winchester until I die," Abdiel said, "even if it means turning my back on my family. Even if it means 'rebelling' as you call it, against you, Michael. You are not God and never will be and I only answer to Him so you can piss off," Abdiel said and flipped the other angel the bird- a very human and stupid thing to do but he didn't care, he was tired of Michael and Raphael thinking they ran the joint when all they were just employees, really.

Michael didn't react for several seconds. It took him a little bit to understand the reference- looking into his vessel's own mind to figure out the meaning of the insult and the hand gesture combined.

Abdiel knew he was going to pay for his little stunt but he didn't feel any different for it- he wouldn't take it back- the look on the archangel's face was just too priceless. He remained passive, resisting the urge to laugh and he did so quite well.

Abdiel didn't resist when, seconds after Michael finally realized the connotation, called up a half dozen angels who seized Abdiel roughly.

Michael strode up to Abdiel, "you will pay for your insolence."

"As is only fair," Abdiel said, smiling up at the archangel.

Michael narrowed his blue eyes at Abdiel, "I had hoped things would have been different, brother. I had hoped you would have realized whose side you were on by now."

"All's fair in love and war, Michael, even you should know that one," Abdiel said, digging his grave ever deeper.

"Get him out of my sight until I decide how to punish him!" Michael snapped at the angels holding Abdiel.

The angels and their captive disappeared.

Michael looked around at those left- Ariel, Ezekiel and… Castiel.

"Does anyone want to follow in Abdiel's footsteps? Speak up now," Michael said, looking pointedly at Castiel, knowing his connection with the Winchesters.

Ariel and Ezekiel adamantly swore their unrivaled loyalty to Michael and Castiel said nothing but looked away from the archangel.

Michael decided that Castiel was too weak of spirit to defy him- the angel had already rebelled against Heaven once and it seemed that was enough.

Michael would have to watch Castiel carefully though, he knew that Abdiel and he were close.

Castiel stared out the window, looking absent-mindedly at the buildings of glass and steel. He knew he wouldn't just give in and be Michael's… bitch (a term he had learned from Dean). He would help Abdiel if he could and help the Winchester's when he could. He just needed to be patient, play the faithful minion to Michael and make his move when the archangel's guard was down.

He thought about what Abdiel had said- about searching for God- and although he had already looked for Him before, with the use of Dean's amulet and had come up with nothing, maybe, just maybe, if God saw how the archangels were tearing Heaven apart He would act.

Castiel hoped so. He didn't wish to contemplate, even for a millisecond, what would happen if Michael and Raphael succeeded in bringing Lucifer back to life. His heart went out to Dean and his brother- he couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for them to hear the information, especially coming from Astoreth and not from himself or Abdiel.

Castiel promised to repair this damage, one way or another, whatever it took, there would be no war in Heaven again.


	24. Tightrope Ride

I killed the Impala's engine and stepped out, grabbing the bag of food and the drink tray that sat on the passenger's seat as I straightened.

I pocketed the car keys and walked to the motel room door, unlocking it with the key-card.

Sam was sitting cross-legged on his bed with his laptop resting on the bedspread before him. His hair was still damp from his shower- his bangs hanging almost to his eyes. He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a dark grey v-neck t-shirt.

My brother looked up when I entered the room and closed the door after myself.

"I brought breakfast," I said and held up the bag and tray in one hand as I slid the key-card onto the table.

"Don't worry, it's not eggs," I said with a smile.

Sam scowled at me; obviously he didn't think it was funny.

He stood, setting his computer aside and took the tray from my hands.

I opened the paper bag and handed Sam a wax paper wrapped bagel with cream cheese.

"Thanks," he said and took a sip of coffee.

We were silent for a couple of minutes, just eating our food and drinking the coffee before I spoke again.

"What attacked you back there? It?" I asked with a hint of a smile.

Sam shook his head, "more like Cujo on steroids."

"Black Dog?" I asked. I was slightly confused- Phobetor stuck his victims in their worst nightmares and if he had done the same with Sam I hadn't noticed before that he was frightened of those creatures- we had encountered them before but I didn't think Sam found them particularly terrifying.

"Hellhound," Sam said and I looked at my brother in surprise.

"After seeing what they could do… what one did to you and Jo... I guess I was more scared of them than I let on," Sam explained.

I nodded and took a bite of my bagel, "why didn't it just kill you then?"

"Phobetor wanted to finish me off himself. He wasn't exactly happy that I'd save Shelly," Sam said and took a gulp of coffee.

"So, your injuries were the same as you had in your nightmare right?" I asked.

Sam nodded.

"But what about Thom and Myrtle?" I asked.

"What'd you find on Myrtle anyway?" Sam asked and then I remembered that I hadn't had a chance to tell him about her autopsy.

"She died of carbon monoxide poisoning," I answered.

Sam nodded as if he had expected that answer.

"What?" I asked, "What am I missing here?"

"Okay, so Phobetor used his victim's worse nightmares to kill him, right?" Sam said.

"I think we've already figured that one out, Sherlock," I said and Sam glared at me.

"Do you want to hear this or not?" Sam said indignantly.

"Yeah, go ahead," I said. It was over anyway but I wanted to know what the heck that Greek god had been doing.

"'Kay, so I looked up some information on Myrtle and I discovered she wasn't born in the States- she's from Munich, Germany. Her real name was Elsie Heinemann but I guess she changed it once she got to the States. Her family was Jewish and they were all carted off to concentration camps during Hitler's Final Solution," Sam said in a morbid voice.

"Myrtle was only four years old when her family was sent to Auschwitz in 1942- her mother, father and brothers were killed in the gas chambers… only Myrtle and her older sister survived… they stayed in the camp until January 1945 when it was liberated by Russian troops," Sam continued.

"So how did Myrtle end up here?" I asked.

"She and her sister had relatives who lived in the States and they were able to bring them here when the war ended," my brother said, "Myrtle grew up here, met her husband here."

"So, what does carbon monoxide have to do with all that?" I asked.

"You really didn't pay attention in history class did you?" Sam asked and rolled his eyes.

"No, I had… uh… more important things to think about… hunts, making sure Dad was okay…" I said.

"Sure," Sam said, knowing I was more concerned with girls than school.

"Carbon monoxide was one of the gases used in the concentration camps," Sam explained.

"Oh," I said and then I realized what Phobetor must have done, "Oh! That son of a bitch!"

Sam nodded solemnly.

I shook my head, took a bite of bagel and then a gulp of coffee.

"What about Thom Zimmerman?" I asked warily. Did I really want to know?

"We were asking the wrong questions all along Dean. Instead of 'does he or she have a fear of the dark?' we should have said 'what fears does he or she have; any phobias?'" Sam said.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Thom had claustrophobia- he was terrified of confined spaces," Sam answered.

"So…" I asked.

"What's the darkest, most confined space you can think of?" my brother asked.

"A coffin," I answered, stunned. That explained why Thom had wood beneath his nails- the poor man had been trying to claw his way out of a casket.

Sam nodded.

"Jesus," I muttered and finished my bagel.

Sam looked down at his and set it aside, apparently having lost his appetite.

"At least that bastard's dead now," I said and took a sip of coffee.

"Yeah," Sam said in a quiet voice.

I sighed, "You 'kay?"

Sam nodded, "it's just that… we've come across some nasty monsters throughout the years and I guess I just sort of forgot just how evil they can be."

"I know," I answered, "but that's why we had to kill them."

My brother nodded again and took a drink of coffee.

I stretched, yawned and looked toward my bed. It was still early.

"I think I'm going to get some shut-eye," I said and moved to the bed, pulled off my boots and laid down.

I felt tired; I wanted to get some rest before we turned our attention on Jonah Thompson and his band of hooligans.

I closed my eyes and was asleep within seconds.

I woke up when I heard a sharp knocking sound. I sat up blearily and saw that it was sunny outside- looking at the clock I saw it was almost eleven.

Sam was sitting on the end of his bed watching something on the TV.

My brother used to remote to turn the television off and stood quietly.

I watched as Sam went to his duffel bag and pulled his gun out. He made sure the safety was off and held it at his side.

I stood and moved to the door. I put a finger to my mouth and then with one hand wrapped around the doorknob, I counted to three with my free hand.

I pulled the door open and was surprised to see Lt. Crabbe standing there.

"Lieutenant, what a pleasant surprise," I said, "please come in."

I moved out of the way and watched from the corner of my eye as Sam concealed the gun before engaging the safety and covertly dropping it back into his bag when the Lieutenant was paying more attention to me. The weapon landed on a pile of clothes and so made little noise- Crabbe didn't notice.

"I thought I told you two to leave here!" Crabbe stood almost toe to toe with me. She glared up at me, her hands on her hips.

"Let us explain-" Sam began but the Lieutenant held up a hand.

"You are not police officers, you are not federal agents and had no right to be involved in this case… but I am glad you are," Crabbe said and gave a small smile.

Sam and I didn't relax though.

"I don't know how you two did it but those people are all safe," Crabbe said, looking confused and happy at the same time.

I grinned, "It's a gift, really."

"Is he gone? The Ripper, is he gone for good?" Crabbe asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Sam answered.

"How? Who are you?" Crabbe asked.

Sam looked at me. I didn't know what to say.

"We know how to kill things like this," I answered.

"'Things'? You mean it wasn't…human?" Crabbe looked even more confused than before.

"Yeah, it wasn't close to being human," I answered and gave her the 'Monsters Are Real' speech- the second time in two days I'd had to do that.

Crabbe sat down on one of the chairs. Sam handed her a bottle of water.

"It's just… they're real? All of them?" she asked and opened the bottle and took a gulp of its contents.

Sam nodded, "a lot of them are real."

"Are there others like you who hunt… monsters?" Crabbe asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"You're sure it's dead? What if there are more?" the Lieutenant asked.

"I'm sure it's dead, and I think the city is safe," Sam said.

The Lieutenant looked very grateful, "are you leaving now?"

I nodded, "soon. Maybe today or tomorrow."

Crabbe stood and shook my hand and then turned and shook Sam's.

She smiled, slightly embarrassed, "thank you so much Agents… I mean, well, I don't even know your real names."

"I'm Dean and he's my brother, Sam," I answered.

The Lieutenant thanked us again and said that we were welcome in Lafayette any time and then she left.

I looked at Sam and he looked at me, "we should leave. Don't want to give Jonah any ideas."

"Where would we go Dean?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know… somewhere remote, don't want civilians caught in the cross-fire, you know."

"Yeah," Sam muttered.

I started packing- no point in staying around here when our job was done.

While I put my toiletries in my duffle bag, took the beer and the water and the rest of the snacks out to the car, Sam phoned Bobby.

"Phobetor's dead," Sam said after greeting the old hunter.

There was a pause.

"Abdiel actually, he heard that we were having some trouble getting rid of him and so he helped us out," Sam said, keeping out the part where he'd almost died.

"We're gonna head out today," Sam said after Bobby asked a question.

"Somewhere remote, don't want anyone getting hurt if we can help it," my brother answered.

"I know… it's strange that he didn't just attack us outright, we've been here for a few days and he could have- Jonah doesn't seem the kind of guy who cares about privacy that much if the stories about him are true," Sam said and moved to the bathroom, cell phone held carefully against his shoulder as he packed his own things into his duffel.

"Okay, okay… well we'll call you when we stop," Sam said and closed his phone.

Twenty minutes later Sam and I were peeling out of the motel's parking lot. I had paid for the room while Sam had packed the rest of our stuff into the trunk and now we were headed to… well, I didn't really know where we were going… we just decided to leave Lafayette and possibly Louisiana altogether.

We didn't even stop for lunch, much to my disappointment. I turned on the radio and listened to music while Sam leaned his head against the passenger window.

Sam was very quiet and that worried me. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm always worried about him but after almost getting killed by a Hellhound (and who knows what else had happened to him in his nightmares) I think you could cut me some slack.

I turned down the music and glanced at Sam.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sam said unconvincingly.

"No, you're not. What're you thinking about?" I asked and looked at him seriously.

Sam sighed and looked at me and once again I saw that haunted expression in his eyes. I hated that look because it reminded me of the pain my brother had gone through, pain I had been unable to fix.

"Maybe I should pack up Sarah and the kids and move to the North Pole or something- at least we won't have hunters after us there," Sam muttered.

I chuckled, "I can just picture you there- snow and ice and penguins… living in an igloo."

"Dean, there are no penguins on the North Pole," Sam muttered. Know-It-All.

"Whatever," I shrugged.

Sam sighed and I turned up the music.

We drove for most of the day. I stopped just as we crossed the border into Mississippi, a few miles from Natchez.

The Impala needed some gas and I needed some food so I pulled into an out-of-the-way gas station not unlike the one I had stumbled upon in Pontiac, Illinois after Cas had rescued me from Hell.

The station had no name, just a sign that read: 'Fuel, Food, Maps'.

Sam got out of the car to stretch his legs while I put gas in the Impala.

"Do you know where we're going?" he asked as we both watched the price climb higher and higher as the amount of gas in the tank increased.

"No," I said.

"Uh huh, so we're just driving aimlessly," Sam said.

"We're not driving aimlessly, Sam, we're giving Jonah something to follow," I said and took the gas nozzle out and closed the cap for the tank

"Uh huh," Sam said but I knew he wouldn't argue. He knew we were doing this so as not to put the lives of innocent bystanders in danger.

The bell above the old screen door tinkled as my brother and I stepped inside. The place was small and dusty but not really dirty. The floors were worn wood and there were rows of shelves with snack foods of every conceivable type arranged on them.

My stomach grumbled loudly and I went to find something to eat while driving.

Sam rolled his eyes and went to the counter to pay for the gas- nice guy.

There were not that many people in the gas station- aside from the skinny kid at the register there was a middle-aged couple and a young business-woman who looked like she had better things to do than hang out in a small, dust-filled building with a bunch of strangers milling around.

I was walking around, looking at the snacks available with Sam trailing me impatiently when I heard the rumble of a truck or a van as it pulled up.

Sam looked over the tops of the shelves and grabbed my arm tightly.

"Hey! What the-" I exclaimed but Sam put one hand over my mouth and pulled me down so we were both crouched eye-level with a dozen boxes of Moon Pies, Twinkies and Snowballs.

"What's going on?" I whispered when Sam took his hand away from my face.

Sam put a finger to his lips.

I looked at him curiously and I heard the bell over the door chime and the sound of numerous footfalls as maybe a half-dozen or more people entered the station.

"They're here somewhere," I heard a stern, commanding voice say.

"Hey, man, if you're going to buy something than do it…I don't have all day to stand around while you browse," a young male voice said- must be the kid at the register.

I jumped when the report of a gun answered the kid's comment.

The customers screamed or shouted and I heard the pounding of feet as they rushed for the door.

"Nobody move!" the stern voice said again, "all of you- get up front."

Footsteps shuffled in the direction of the counter. I heard the soft sound of one of the women stifling a cry.

I looked at Sam and he mouthed one word: 'Jonah'.

I nodded. Shit, I thought, there's no chance in trying to avoid him now- the car's sitting right out for the entire fucking world to see.

Really smart move Dean, I chastised myself.

I heard the sound of heavy footsteps as they walked farther into the store.

"I know you're in here," Jonah's voice said, "there's no use hiding."

Maybe he doesn't know Sam's with me, I thought fleetingly.

"Come out; come out wherever you are," Jonah said in a mockery of a sing-song voice, "Deeeeaaan… Saaaaaam."

I closed my eyes for a moment. But, I mean, really, I shouldn't be surprised that Jonah would know Sam was with me. I guess I just hoped he thought we had gone in separate directions or something to throw him off.

Just our luck, I thought.

I opened my eyes again and motioned to Sam that I would go out first.

Sam nodded and I shuffled around him and stood, holding my hands up like a criminal.

My brother stood and followed my lead.

Jonah looked just the way Sam described him- the old military man standing almost at attention with an unreadable expression on his face and his hands on a gun.

He wore combat boots and green camouflage, even the hat. I could see his dog-tags still around his neck that'd he probably worn since he got off the boat in Vietnam when the war started.

He had short, crew cut grey hair, a clean shaven face, and dark eyes.

There were also six kids with him- and by 'kids' I mean that they looked barely old enough to shave.

They wore an assortment of fatigues and civilian clothing- an army jacket with jeans or boots and a t-shirt, etc.

Jonah's lackeys had their eyes on the front door and on the three tourists now cowering against the counter.

I gave a cocky smile; my hands still raised and spoke, "so, if you're the Lost Boys," I nodded in the direction of the kids, "than I guess that makes you Peter Pan."

Jonah laughed as if I had just told a joke.

"Dean Winchester, I've heard a lot about you, almost as much as I've heard about your brother," Jonah said and looked at Sam.

"I still can't believe that you're not dead, after all the hunters who claim so," Jonah spoke to him.

Sam lowered his hands and shrugged his shoulders, "The report of my death was an exaggeration."

I couldn't help but smile at my brother- what does he do when his life is in peril? Quote Mark Twain of course.

I followed Sam's example and lowered my hands, "now, I can explain that to you Jonah- I started those stories. I told one friend and he told two friends and they each told two more friends and, well, it sort of spread like wildfire once it got going."

I decided to play it safe and see if Jonah would fall for the lie- I really didn't want this to end in bloodshed.

"Are you sure Dean? Because I heard on more than one occasion that Sam was dead, and both the causes were different," Jonah said, still keeping his relaxed stance.

"After a while it's like playing Telephone with a bunch of first-graders- things get mixed up or omitted or someone changes the story completely for one that's more interesting…" I tailed off when I saw the look on Jonah's face and knew he didn't believe a word I was saying.

"The one story that is always the same though, is the one about the Apocalypse," Jonah said quietly.

"Okay, it's going to go this way," I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

"Before we start anything, Jonah, why don't you let these people go- they're just passing through, they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time," I said and looked at the terrified civilians.

Jonah cocked his head to the side, "don't they want to see the man who almost destroyed the world, don't they want to meet the monster who would have killed them without a second thought?"

Sam cringed visibly when Jonah had said the 'm' word and one of the kids aimed his gun at my brother.

"Whoa! Hold on there Rambo, why don't we talk like civilized people? Why don't you put the gun down before someone gets hurt?" I said before someone could get killed- like Sam.

Jonah motioned to the young man and he lowered the gun but still kept his gaze fixed on my brother as though he'd suddenly go berserk and attack or something.

"Jonah, let these people leave, you have us cornered, there's no need to drag them into this," Sam said with quiet authority.

Jonah looked at Sam, a little surprised I think, like he was shocked that Sam was showing these people mercy.

I don't know who had been feeding Jonah lies about my brother or what those lies were exactly but I had a feeling they only served to make mass murders appear cuddly in comparison to my brother.

Jonah, to my surprise, actually nodded and motioned to one of the boys to shepherd the women and the man out of the store.

The young man knelt down and took hold of the arm of the single woman. She looked frightened for a moment and then her face went blank. While the kid had his hand on her arm she took hold of his arm and I heard the bone snap as she broke it.

The kid cried out and one of the others shot the woman between the eyes. The second woman and the man now leapt into action- quick with inhuman reflexes they pounced on Jonah's boys.

I remained where I was, frozen in shock that things had turned from bad to worse literally in the space of a second. I heard the sound of movement from behind the counter and turned to see the skinny kid vault over the thing like he was a star athlete- despite the fact that half of his face had been blown to smithereens- chunks of bone and brain dripped down his neck and onto his shirt, his one remaining eye turning coal black as he attacked Jonah outright.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and grabbed my upper arm, pulling me towards the back of the shop.

I turned away from the scene and my brother and I dodged through the aisles- getting closer and closer to the emergency exit at the back.

Still gripping my arm, Sam burst through the door, practically dragging me after him. We sprinted to the front and I pawed the car keys from my pocket, fumbled with them for a moment- distracted by the sound of shouting and gunfire coming from within the station- and managed to unlock the driver's side door.

By now Sam had let me go and stood anxiously at the passenger's side, waiting for me to open his door. I swung the door wide and my brother slid into the seat even as I turned on the engine.

We had barely closed our doors when I was peeling out of the driveway and onto the dirt road- intent on getting as far away from Jonah and the demons as possible.

Sam and I didn't speak for a good while. I could see him checking behind us every few seconds to see if Jonah was following us.

"What was that?" Sam exclaimed, looking at me for an answer.

"Luck," I said.

"They were demons!" Sam said, almost frantic.

"I know that!" I snapped unintentionally.

Sam quickly turned his head to look out the window.

"Sam, I'm sorry," I said and saw that he still wouldn't look at me.

I sighed. Great Dean, I thought, get angry at Sam- that's good.

I didn't say anything again for a while; I just focused on the road ahead.

"They didn't attack us, did you see that?" I said quietly.

"Yeah," Sam muttered, "I wonder why."

I nodded. I couldn't think of anyone better to attack than Sam and I- we were unarmed and surely we were still on their hit list even though we were retired.

"Maybe they saw Jonah and his boys as a bigger threat," Sam suggested half-heartedly.

That wasn't how demons worked though and Sam knew it. It didn't matter to them if you had a Bazooka or a butter knife- they'd kill you just for the sport of it.

SPN

Jonah stood in the middle of the road just outside the gas station. He faced the direction he was sure the Winchesters had gone.

Thick smoke billowed up from the gas station. The old hunter turned and walked casually to the large, black van and climbed into the passenger's seat.

Kaiser drove at a leisurely pace- he didn't even flinch when the fire reached the gas tanks and they exploded, destroying any evidence of the battle that had taken place only minutes ago.

Jonah stared out the window. He gritted his teeth together in frustration. The demons had killed Davis and Lefebvre had a busted up arm that would take weeks to heal.

The thing that troubled Jonah most of all though, was the fact that the demons had not attacked the Winchesters and had only made their presence known after Carlson had aimed his gun at Sam Winchester.

Over the years Jonah had heard some strange stories concerning the Winchesters, and Sam in particular. The old hunter had heard that Sam was psychic and had visions or something like that. Jonah didn't like psychics- he didn't trust them at all and as far as he was concerned they were one step above the supernatural bastards he hunted. He had heard that once Sam and Dean both rescued a nest of vampires from another hunter, allowing them to escape and continue their path of destruction through the States. Jonah had heard that Sam was involved with demons- that he was meant to lead some demon army that would annihilate or possess every human on God's green earth. He had even heard once, while having a drink in a bar in Bangkok, that Sam Winchester was studying the occult- witchcraft and the like- but Jonah wasn't sure how much of that one he believed though. He had heard that Sam Winchester had even murdered a couple of his own- other hunters like Gordon Walker and maybe even Steve Wondell although no one could actually prove it. One of the more disturbing stories about Sam Winchester to come to Jonah's attention was a rumour that the young man had actually started the Apocalypse. At first Jonah had been ready to shrug it off as nonsense- after all he had heard dozens of tales about the youngest Winchester that were false, the products of hunters with grudges against John or who were plastered and were trying to outdo their buddies by retelling the craziest piece of gossip they could think of or had overheard- but more than one hunter to cross his path had sworn that Sam Winchester had single-handedly begun the Apocalypse, telling Jonah this tidbit of information with completely serious expressions and sober minds.

Jonah felt disgust and a deep sense of betrayal that the boy would turn his back on his fellow hunters and become the vehicle by which the world would end- but then again Sam Winchester wasn't human… at least not completely- at any rate, that was what Jonah had heard.

Just when it seemed like the Apocalypse was close enough to be irreversible Sam Winchester vanished off the face of the earth. Dead, the gossip said, or hiding out of remorse for his actions or in some unknown location to watch the coming destruction from a safe distance…

A year and a half had passed before stories came flooding back that Sam Winchester had mysteriously re-appeared in some one-horse town in Kansas. The Apocalypse had not taken place in the time the boy had been missing and the hunting community had taken a collective sigh of relief.

Jonah though was burning with curiosity to know why Sam had returned at all when it seemed like he would never show his face again.

He had spoken to a group of hunters who had claimed they had shot Sam Winchester dead in South Dakota… but Jonah had heard a few weeks later that he had been spotted alive and well with his brother in New Mexico. Jonah didn't like how similar this story was to the tale of two hunters named Roy and Walt who said they'd shot Sam and Dead point blank with shotguns only to discover that the Winchesters had been seen driving around days later as though nothing had happened…

Now Jonah was very confused and frustrated. He was trying to sort through the rumours and stories about Sam, attempting to tell the real from the fake. He had paid a visit to Bobby Singer a few years back and spoken to the old hunter himself- the hunter had told Jonah that Dean Winchester was a veteran, that the young man was retired and had told him Sam was dead when he had inquired about the youngest Winchester- Bobby had had a solemn, grim expression on his face the entire time he had talked with him but the tales kept coming and made Jonah suspicious of anything Singer had said.

But why did those demons in the gas station let the Winchesters go? Jonah thought to himself.

The ex-military man could not come up with a reasonable explanation that didn't involve some sort of deal or consort with the infernal creatures.

Jonah didn't think Dean would associate with demons… but Sam…. After all the wild, almost ridiculous stories about that boy Jonah wouldn't be surprised at anything.

Kaiser glanced at Jonah nervously- he had rarely ever seen the older man like this- he was so completely focused on the Winchesters that he shut everything else out. The man only ever got like this when they were on a big hunt, about to take out a particularly large or important target.

"Boss? You alright?" Kaiser asked.

"Yes," Jonah said in a distracted voice.

"The Winchesters-" Kaiser began but Jonah interrupted.

"Kill Dean but I want Sam alive… I want to talk to him before he dies," Jonah said in a decisive, deadly voice.

"Boss? Ya do know they're men, right? And they've families? We saw Sam's wife and kids, right?" Kaiser said.

Jonah looked at the younger hunter, "Would a man start the Apocalypse?"

"I dunno, Boss," Kaiser said. He had heard some of the stories about the Winchesters as well (mostly from Jonah himself but also from other hunters).

"Maybe there's two sides to the story," Kaiser suggested. He had no problem wasting werewolves and vampires, exorcising demons and salting and burning the skeletons of ghosts but when it came to his fellow men he became uneasy.

Jonah shook his head, "trust me. The only side of the story you need to know is the one everyone knows is true. Don't go soft on me and think you'd like to hear out whatever lie Sam Winchester has thought up to get himself off the hook."

"But Boss, wha' about his family?" Kaiser asked.

"What about them?" Jonah asked, "I will not kill them as long as I can get Sam."

Kaiser didn't ask any more questions- he just drove down the road and kept his opinions to himself.

SPN

I drove in the direction of Hattiesburg, past Natchez, not really sure where I was going, or caring for that matter as long as Jonah was eating our dust.

After about four hours of driving my stomach decided to remind me that I hadn't eaten anything except a bagel that day and I parked the Impala at a tiny truck-stop diner.

"Dean, shouldn't we keep going?" Sam asked in a way that said he really wanted to continue putting distance between us and the hunter.

"Sam, I'm starving and I'm sure you're hungry too," I said as I opened the car door and stepped outside.

Sam followed suit and we stood on either side of the car, talking across its glossy black roof.

"Dean, please… I think we should keep driving… at least until we reach Hattiesburg," Sam said, almost begging. I could see he was uncomfortable but I ignored him.

"You can wait in the car then if you don't want to eat," I said rudely and shut the car door and making my way toward the front door of the diner.

After a moment's pause Sam followed me, his head down and an unhappy expression on his face.

The diner was relatively quiet- there was only one trucker inside, sitting at the bar on a stool eating what looked like a turkey club sandwich.

The inside of the restaurant was what you'd expect- faux tile floors, vinyl on the booths, stool and seat covers, neon OPEN sign and a list of Fifties style food.

Sam and I slid into a booth at the back so we could look out the window in case Jonah caught up with us.

A middle-aged waitress with a toad-like face and grayish hair in a perm handed us menus and glasses of water.

I peered at the menu, making a point of not looking at my brother. I could still see him fidgeting though, like he had ADHD or something but I wasn't going to leave until I had eaten.

When the waitress returned I ordered a bacon double cheeseburger and Sam only asked for coffee.

Sam began twisting his wedding band around on his finger nervously.

"How many of the pills do you have left?" I asked out of curiosity.

I knew there couldn't be many. He'd been eating those things like they were candy but I knew he was stressed to the max and those pills were the only things keeping him from completely flipping out.

"A few day's worth," Sam said as he continued to twist the ring around.

I sighed. There was no way we could drive up to Montana and get Sam more so I guessed I'd just have to deal with the symptoms of the PTSD once the residual effects of the medicine wore off.

Sam glanced up at me when I sighed, "I'm sorry, is there a problem Dean?"

"No, nothing," I muttered.

"There is," Sam continued. He had stopped fidgeting and now sat very still.

I really didn't want to get into an argument right then.

"Just forget it Sam," I said as the waitress brought my food and Sam's drink over.

When the waitress left my brother grabbed a handful of those little lidded cups of cream and began pouring them into his coffee- he wasn't even paying attention to what he was doing.

I didn't touch my food, I just watched my brother with fascination.

"What is it Dean? What's the matter?" Sam asked, looking at me.

I watched as the mug of coffee began to overflow and pooled onto the table.

"Sam, watch it!" I said and reached forward to steady his hand.

I wrapped a hand around his wrist and felt him tense at my touch. Sam looked down and saw the pool of coffee slowly creeping across the table toward him.

"Shit," Sam muttered and I released his arm. He swiped some napkins from the square silver holder on the table and began mopping up the mess.

"Shit, shit, shit…" Sam continued muttering under his breath as he wadded up the napkins and set them aside.

"Sam… its okay…it's just coffee… and you cleaned it up…" I said softly.

My brother flicked a hand to toss the last of the napkins into the small pile he had made but in doing so he hit the mug of coffee, tipping it onto its side and causing the liquid to splash all over the table and onto the floor.

"God damn it!" Sam exclaimed and jumped up to avoid getting soaked with the coffee.

I took hold of the napkin holder and started placing the white serviettes on the mess to clean up the table.

I had rarely seen Sam act like this- he seemed to be barely in control.

The waitress appeared with a mop and began cleaning up the floor. I couldn't help but notice that she glared at Sam as she took about five seconds to clear up the coffee.

"Sam, sit down," I said.

Sam remained standing for a moment and then sat down heavily.

I righted the mug and then decided I should eat my food before it went cold.

Sam looked out the window for a moment and then put his head in his hands, his elbows on the table.

I stopped eating and watched my brother for a moment.

"Sam? You okay?" I asked and nudged him gently on the leg with the toe of my boot.

Sam didn't move.

"What is it?" I asked.

Sam didn't respond for a minute but then without moving he spoke.

"You never asked me how I knew it was Jonah who pulled up to the pumps," his muffled voice asked.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"It was his van… a few weeks ago it was sitting outside of my house… in the middle of the road. I thought it was someone just passing through, checking their map to see how far it was to Helena or Butte… we always get people doing that in Petite… no one stays for long…" Sam said and his shoulders began to shake.

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I just hoped Sam wasn't crying.

He lifted his head I realized Sam wasn't crying- he was laughing.

"He was so close… so close he could have killed me then… but he didn't…" Sam said through his laughter.

I wasn't sure I was getting the joke.

The waitress returned with a pot of coffee and topped up Sam's mug.

Sam continued to chuckle, he paused and took a sip of coffee and finally let me know what he thought was so funny.

"It's Murphy's Law isn't it? My whole friggin' life has been like one giant example of 'whatever can go wrong, will go wrong'. It's like bad luck is drawn to me like I'm some sort of magnet," Sam said but then he stopped laughing and smiling, serious again.

"Oh c'mon Sam. Sure you've had some tough breaks in the past but that sort of thing can happen to anyone, any hunter… and besides, your luck has taken a turn for the best now: you're married to a wonderful, beautiful, smart woman who loves you and you've got two awesome kids-" I began but my brother interrupted me.

"Do you ever get that feeling that you don't belong with Lisa and Ben and S.J.? Do you ever feel like you shouldn't be with them? I feel that way when I am with Sarah," Sam said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I feel like I'm some stranger… like I'm an imposter or something. Sometimes I think that one morning Sarah's going to wake up and start screaming at me to get out of the house because she doesn't know who I am… or one day I'll come home from work and see the real Sam Winchester having dinner with my family. Sometimes I look in the mirror and ask myself if I really am Sam Winchester and not some intruder…" Sam said, looking down into his mug of coffee.

I had no idea what my brother was talking about- I certainly did not feel that way when it came to my own family- I didn't feel like a stranger when I stepped through the front door, I felt like I belonged with Lisa and the boys.

"That sounds like the plot of some B-Grade sci-fi movie, Sammy," I said and took a bite of my burger.

Sam didn't look up, only lowered his head further down toward the table.

I ate my food in silence and Sam didn't say anything more until the waitress came back with the bill.

My brother looked up and took the little slip of paper before I could see it.

"I'll pay this time," Sam said and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

"You only had coffee Sam. I was the one who actually ordered a meal," I protested.

"You bought breakfast, Dean. How about you pay for dinner then if it'll make you feel better?" Sam said and I relented.

Sam and I didn't talk as we headed toward Hattiesburg. I really didn't know what to say. It felt like we were running away from Jonah when we needed to be confronting him… the problem was, we didn't know how that wouldn't get us killed.

I wished we could just be left alone, Sam and I were retired and I wished other hunters could understand and respect that… I wished we didn't have people still believing that Sam was evil. I mean, the Apocalypse was over and no one was in any danger, so why come after my brother?

C'mon Dean, think! I thought, what did you do when Gordon was after Sam?

When Gordon Walker had come after Sam we had tried our best to escape, become invisible and slip past him but when that didn't work, when it became obvious that the hunter was never going to stop until my brother was dead, Sam and I had been forced to act.

The problem was, I didn't want another incident like the one involving Gordon- Sam and I had barely escaped with our lives that time and now we had more people to think about than just the two of us.

It was looking more and more likely though that we'd have to go up against Jonah and his apprentices one-on-one… and soon. Sam and I couldn't spend much more time driving across the country, trying to stay ahead of the hunter.

I glanced over at my brother and saw he was staring out the passenger window, not really seeing the scenery passing by.

I bit my lip and looked out at the road before me.

Let just get to Hattiesburg and then we can decide what to do next, I thought.

I found a small motel and stopped for the night, just within the city limits of Hattiesburg. The place had its parking lot around the back where the Impala wouldn't be seen easily from the road and that was mostly why I had chosen this particular motel.

Sam and I got a room and wearily stepped inside. It was small and cramped- it had dark brown carpeting, beige walls, an old television perched precariously on a wooden dresser and a tiny bathroom. The room itself smelled overpoweringly of Pine-Sol. As soon as we entered the room I closed the dusty, brown curtains and turned on the overhead light to brighten up the now darkened space.

Sam sat down on one of the two beds and heaved a tired sigh.

"We can't keep doing this Dean," Sam said, speaking up for the first time since leaving the diner.

"I know," I said, "let's just figure out what we can do about Jonah."

We both knew that talking to the hunter was useless, he was not in the mood to hear anything we had to say- Jonah thought Sam was the epitome of evil and he had me brain-washed into believing him or something.

Since diplomacy wasn't going to get through to Jonah, maybe a show of force would- not that Sam or I wanted to resort to violence but, you know, desperate times and all that.

We needed to show Thompson and his goons that we were not to be fucked with, but not only that, what we really needed to drill into that hunter's thick head was that we also were not bad people, Sam in particular.

The thing was, Jonah was unpredictable, we didn't know him and we didn't know his habits or techniques or any of that, so really, whatever Sam and I decided to do, we'd be flying by the seat of our pants.

For the better part of an hour, Sam and I tossed around some ideas, always holding our breath and remaining still as statues though whenever we heard the sound of an engine approach.

I hated hiding out, that was not something I was into, that was not what Dad had taught us but we didn't have much of a choice unless we wanted to be surprised by Jonah when we had our pants down.

When Sam and I had exhausted our attempts at figuring out how to deal with Jonah and his cronies I slipped out of the room for a short walk.

I knew showing my face in public, what with the hunter closing in, probably wasn't really smart but I just needed some breathing space… and I thought Sam did too.

I really did just walk, I didn't go near the Impala, sure I loved her but she was far too conspicuous and I didn't feel the need to be gunned down in a drive-by-shooting in some Mississippi town because I hadn't used my brain.

As I walked, passing stores selling clothes, furniture, etc. I pulled my cell phone from the back pocket of my jeans and called Bobby. In our rush to get away from Jonah and the demons in the gas station and the episode in the diner afterward, I had forgotten to call the old hunter.

Bobby's phone rang once.

"C'mon old man," I breathed as I waited for him to pick up.

It rang twice.

"Where the hell are you?" I muttered as I stopped and stared at some shoes a store had for sale.

Three times now and still no answer.

"When I get back I'm buying you a cell phone," I muttered when I finally heard Bobby's voice on the other end.

"By all means, but that don't mean I'll use it," Bobby said.

"We've finally met Jonah in the flesh," I said.

"When?" Bobby asked.

"Few hours ago in some gas station," I answered.

"How'd it go?" Bobby asked as though I was talking about some date.

"Well, he isn't one to bring flowers," I said, "and he didn't even pay for the meal."

"Nice," Bobby said sarcastically, "what happened? You and Sam get out all right?"

"Yeah, we did," I said, "can't say the same for the kid at the cash register though- one of Jonah's boys shot him in the face."

"What'd you two do?" Bobby asked.

"We didn't do anything Bobby! Jonah's goons are trigger happy idiots, that's what happened! The son of a bitch probably would have killed the other customers as well if we hadn't said anything," I said defensively.

"How'd you two make it out? You convince Jonah everything's kosher?" Bobby asked.

"I wish," I said, "no, turns out those customers and the cashier were demons and they attacked Jonah and his gang so Sam and I had time to make a getaway."

"What? You two didn't get caught up in the fight?" Bobby asked and I could almost see him scratching his head.

"That's the weird thing… the demons acted like Sam and I weren't even there, they just went straight for Jonah and company," I answered, as baffled as Bobby sounded.

"Huh," Bobby said, "never heard of demons doing that before."

"I know, neither have I," I answered.

"Where're you now?" Bobby asked.

I paused and looked around at the other people walking casually down the street and the cars parked along the curb.

"Hattiesburg," I answered quietly.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked.

"Dunno," I shrugged, "we're just killing time until we meet up with Jonah again."

"Sounds fun," Bobby said, "how's Sam?"

I hesitated for a second, "okay, everything considered…"

"But…" Bobby said, catching the pause in my voice.

"The stress is really getting to him," I said with a sigh, "it's this thing with Lucifer I think."

"You just look out for your brother," Bobby said.

"Yeah, I know, I know," I said a little annoyed.

"I mean it Dean, you know Sam's not been right since coming back from Hell," Bobby warned.

"That makes two of us," I muttered.

"Huh? What're you talking about?" Bobby prodded.

"What? I don't know… I'm just stressed out too. Never mind," I answered and continued walking.

"I don't wanna hear you say somethin' like that again, Dean Winchester," Bobby said, "yer the one who told me to try an' find some way to rescue Sam when he was in the Cage and yer the one who asked Death to fix 'im up when he was dying."

"I know that Bobby! Jeez, you don't have to lecture me!" I snapped.

"You of all people should know to keep your mouth shut about Sam," Bobby continued, "you don't have any right to complain about 'im."

"I know," I said in exasperation.

"Yer the one who wanted your brother back and once you do get what you want, you bitch and whine like some spoiled kid," Bobby snapped back.

"I'm stressed Bobby! I didn't mean it, okay? I just…I just miss the old Sam and I know he's not coming back…" I answered.

Bobby didn't reply.

"Bobby? You still on the line?" I asked. Maybe I had pissed him off and he had hung up on me. I didn't hear the dial tone though.

"I know you do Dean… I miss him too," Bobby said quietly.

"Jesus. I just wish things could have been different… I just wish I could help Sam somehow, you know, instead of just watching over him like he's a child," I know Sam hated being treated like a kid and I didn't like it either.

"I wish I had some answers Dean but I don't," Bobby said apologetically.

"Yeah," I muttered. I should go back to the motel soon- I didn't want to leave Sam alone for too long, especially with the fact that his medication was slowly dwindling and I didn't want him to have a hallucination or something even if Bobby said that those weren't happening anymore, you never knew, Post-Traumatic Stress disorder was a tricky thing and with what was causing it in Sam, I didn't feel so confident that he would be perfectly fine when the pills did run out.

"I'll call you later Bobby, okay?" I said after the old hunter gave an affirmative 'yeah, yeah. I bet you will,' I closed my phone and headed back in the direction I had come from.

When I stepped back inside the motel room I saw that the bathroom door was closed and I heard the shower running.

I relaxed a bit and pulled my boots off and sat down on the end of the bed I had claimed.

I didn't bother turning on the TV, I wasn't in the mood to watch anything anyway, so I lay down on the bed so I could stare up at the ceiling.

I waited as Sam showered but eventually I looked at my watch and saw that almost a half an hour had passed since I had come back inside and my brother was still in the bathroom.

I frowned and sat up, looking toward the closed bathroom door.

Now I'm not one to go annoying people when their busy in the bathroom but Sam had been in there a long time, longer than it took for a conventional shower, long then my brother usually took to shower so I took a breath, stood and padded over to the door and rapped my knuckles against it

No answer.

"Hey Sam, save some hot water for the rest of us," I said loudly enough so he could hear me through the door and over the sound of running water.

I again received no confirmation that my brother had heard me.

I reached out and gripped the doorknob in my hand and tried to turn it- the door was locked.

"You better not be drowning yourself in there!" I said and went and sat back on my bed.

Twenty more minutes passed before I heard the tap turn off. I sighed with relief and made a point of trying not to look annoyed or worried for when Sam came out of the bathroom.

When Sam did finally come step out I didn't look at him for a moment- I didn't want him to know I'd been waiting for him.

"You're back," Sam said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, I just stepped in," I said.

I turned to Sam and saw that he looked very tired, the dark circles under his eyes were very noticeable and his face looked drawn. His damp hair was plastered to his head and looked almost black from the moisture. He had changed into a clean pair of jeans and a light green t-shirt.

"I called Bobby and told him about Jonah," I said.

"What'd he say?" Sam asked.

"Nothin' much," I shrugged, "not anything that could help us anyway."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It may have just been my imagination but I thought that the haunted look in Sam's eyes looked even more pronounced, his eyes a darker green like when he was exhausted or in pain.

I made a show of stretching and yawning, "I don't know about you but I could go for a nap."

Sam smiled slightly, probably at the fact that a grown man wanted to sleep in the middle of the day, but said nothing.

I lay back down on the bed and told Sam to wake me in a half an hour and fell promptly asleep.

I woke up and it was dark in the room- I could see orange light coming through a crack in the curtains but there were no lights on in the motel room.

I sat up and saw the figure of my brother sitting on his bed with his legs crossed beneath him.

"Christ, Sam! I told you to wake me up in thirty minutes!" I snapped and turned on the bedside lamp.

The alarm clock on the dresser between the beds read nine forty-seven at night.

Sam was sitting with his head down. He didn't even look up when I spoke to him.

"Hey, Sam," I said rudely, I was angry he hadn't listened to me, "I'm talking to you!"

He isn't listening to you know, I thought. My brother's only a foot or two away from me and he's acting as though I'm not even in the room with him… or he's deaf.

I reached out, leaned across the space between the two beds and the tips of my fingers just brushed Sam's pant leg.

My brother's head snapped up immediately and he moved back, away from me.

I can see his face and am surprised to see it contorted in fear.

I just scared him, I thought, I should know better than to touch him when he's not paying attention.

"Sammy," I said softly.

Sam shook his head a little and looked at me, embarrassment replacing the fear on his features.

"Dean," he mutters and glances around, "oh man, I'm sorry I… didn't know what time it was."

I said nothing, biting my tongue against some snide remark about the clock being right in front of his face.

"Don't worry about it," I mutter, "I needed the sleep anyway."

I looked at Sam, worried. I didn't know how long he had been sitting there, lost in thought or maybe some memory but knew we needed to finish with Jonah and get him back to Montana very, very soon.

Since it was so late I didn't bother getting anything to eat for dinner. I could grab something on the way out of here the next morning.

I took a shower and as I stood under the warm water I wondered why Sam had spent so much time in here, what was he doing for probably over an hour in the bathroom?

When I stepped out of the shower and dried off, I changed into a pair of old grey jogging pants and a navy blue t-shirt.

Upon exiting the bathroom I saw Sam lying on his bed, curled up in the fetal position and fast asleep.

At least he's resting, I thought as I stuffed my dirty clothes into my duffel bag.

I turned on the TV, sound on low, and watched some old Spaghetti western movie with John Wayne and Lee Marvin in it.

I actually spent most of the night watching television since I had slept longer than I meant to. I didn't mind though, I was worried about Sam and that allowed me to be awake and ready in case he needed me.

I guess I worried too much though, Sam remained asleep the entire night and although he whimpered and muttered he did not wake up.

As I watched the TV I thought that maybe the PTSD was worse than Sam was telling me… or he had begun taking the pills again before it got too bad. I just knew I needed to keep a close eye on him for the next little while, at least until he could refill the prescription.


	25. The Duelists

We had been driving for two days and still were running from Jonah. Since his appearance at the gas station near Natchez, the crazed hunter seemed to have vanished.

But Dean and I knew better than to think we'd lost him.

My brother insisted on driving, practically demanded it with a look that told me he didn't trust me behind the wheel of his beloved Impala.

I didn't say anything, I just nodded. If Dean wanted to drive than let him drive.

Besides, I was feeling on-edge and finding it difficult to concentrate.

Dean would blast his rock music, singing along and tapping his hands against the steering wheel while I stared out the passenger window or the windshield, thinking… and remembering.

We drove straight through Mississippi, right into Alabama but I didn't ask Dean where we were going, I didn't care, all I wanted was to be done with Jonah and go back to Montana.

Bachman-Turner Overdrive blasted from the speakers at a level that blocked out all outside noise.

Dean sang along happily to 'Let It Ride'. He had exhausted all of his tapes but I knew that as soon as he got bored of whatever was on the radio I'd be forced to hear every single one for what must be the trillionth time.

I didn't mind Dean's music though, not right then at least. It kept him distracted and that was fine with me- Dean wouldn't notice the fact that I had my teeth clenched together so hard my jaw ached, or that I would close my eyes as though I was asleep but I definitely wasn't. Dean didn't notice how straight I sat in my seat, tense, or that I kept fumbling with my wedding band.

My knee began to jerk nervously. I needed to get out of the car and stretch my legs or something or the restlessness was going to kill me.

But when I glanced out the widow I saw we were in the middle of nowhere, literally. There were only fields and trees whipping by us as we flew down the highway.

Luckily though, Dean turned down the music and slowed the car.

"I need to take a piss," my brother informed me and pulled the car onto the gravel shoulder.

Dean slipped out the driver's side and walked into the little wooded area just off the road.

I took advantage of the interruption and got out of the car, stretched and walked to the rear of the car to open the trunk.

I grabbed my laptop from my duffle bag. At least I could keep myself entertained (distracted) while Dean insists on driving to the ends of the earth; I thought and closed the trunk.

I looked up when I heard footsteps coming up through the small woods and I saw Dean.

"If you have to go, you better do it now 'cause I don't know when there's another Service Station," my brother said with a smile.

I rolled my eyes. I slid back into my seat and closed the door. I propped my laptop on my knees and turned it on.

Dean sat down, turned the ignition and steered the car back onto the road, continuing to head toward… wherever.

"What? Don't like my singing?" Dean glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

I shrugged, "I just need to do something other than watch the scenery go by."

"What, you don't like looking at… trees and road kill?" Dean asked with a smile.

I rolled my eyes, pulling up a game of Solitaire and began playing.

The truth was that I was needed to keep myself occupied, thinking on something constantly so as not to allow memories of Hell to slip through and take over.

I had told myself I could handle it, that the PTSD wasn't as bad as it had been before… but I wasn't so sure I believed it myself. I was determined not to show weakness, I didn't want to accept that I wasn't anything but in control.

The thing that kept me going with this charade was the fact that I did not want Dean to know how the memories of Hell were affecting me, even now, even with Lucifer long dead.

As we drove the interior of the car seemed to shrink, becoming increasingly smaller. I knew that it wasn't really, but I still felt claustrophobic nonetheless. I rolled down the widow but that didn't help much.

I felt sweat slide down my back and bead on my forehead. I swiped at my brow and slouched forward to turn on the air conditioning before I remembered that it didn't work.

My laptop lay forgotten across my legs, I couldn't help it but I wrapped my arms around myself as though for protection.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back; hoping Dean would think I had gone to sleep.

"Sam."

I heard a voice, Dean's voice as if from far away.

"Sam?"

My brother's voice again, worried sounding this time.

Someone touched my shoulder and I jumped, cringed away at the contact.

I opened my eyes and saw Dean snatch his hand back.

"Sorry, sorry," Dean apologized.

I looked around and saw that I was still in the car, that now we were driving through the streets of some tiny village.

"I thought we could stop for the night," Dean said, "you know, get some rest."

It was unspoken but I saw a look in my brother's expression that said 'so you can get some decent sleep'.

"Okay," I muttered.

My laptop had slipped onto the floor sometime while I had my eyes closed- I don't think I was sleeping, I know I wasn't sleeping because all I saw when I shut my eyes was Hell.

Dean found a motel and we stopped for the night. We piled into the dingy motel room and my brother sat down on the bed closest to the door. He always took that bed; I suppose it made him feel as if I was better protected since anything coming in the front door would have to go through him to get to me.

"Man, this bed feels like a slab of rock covered in a sheet," Dean muttered and rubbed his backside comically.

I chuckled and lay down tiredly on my own bed.

"S'not that bad," I muttered sleepily.

"C'mon man, it's only three o'clock, don't tell me you're ready to call it a night," Dean complained.

"Uh, it's just from sitting in the car all day… makes me kinda drowsy," I answered. When I was a kid on long drives from state to state with my brother and Dad, eventually I would just curl up in the backseat and snooze the hours away, lulled by the deep rumble of the Impala and the steady feeling of her tires over asphalt.

"Gimme a second," I said and sat up, rubbing the heels of my hands at my eyes.

I blinked a couple of times, stifled a yawn and stood up to stretch my arms over my head.

Dean stared up at me expectantly and I heard his stomach gurgle loudly.

"Whaddya say we have an early dinner, bro? I'm starving," Dean said.

I shrugged, "sure."

Ten minutes later we were sitting in a booth in a tiny no-name diner- the only restaurant in the town.

I couldn't help but sigh inwardly: No-name town, no-name motel and now a no-name diner.

Dean and I were better than that now; we actually had jobs that paid so I wasn't quite sure why my brother insisted on the cheapest motel rooms and diner food constantly.

You know it's just for show, I thought as a waitress brought over water and menus, like Bobby said, we've got to keep up appearances and make Jonah believe Dean and I still know what we're doing.

My brother picked up his menu and looked through it, looking almost like he belonged on the road, in this bland, forgettable diner, just a few hours from sleeping in one shitty motel room only to get up at the crack of noon the next day ready to repeat the process once again.

Drive for sixteen hours, rent crappy room at a motel no one's ever heard of, eat mediocre diner food, sleep in either too soft or too hard motel bed and repeat, I thought angrily.

Dean didn't notice the expression on my face- he was too enthralled in his menu.

I picked up my own menu and idly turned its three laminated pages. I wasn't really hungry but I knew Dean would bitch if I didn't eat something so when the waitress returned I ordered the Soup of the Day- beef and barley- and the house salad with Italian dressing.

My brother, veering away from his usual burger for once, ordered a club sandwich with French fries and coleslaw.

When the waitress brought out food my brother and I ate in silence. I didn't really want to talk and Dean seemed content just to munch on his fries and sandwich.

After about ten minutes Dean spoke up around a mouthful of slaw, "what if Jonah isn't following us like we thought? What if the son of a bitch is ahead of us?"

I looked up at my brother, "I don't know."

Dean nodded, "I'll guess we'll meet up with him then."

That didn't sound like a good outcome but we didn't really have a choice, if Jonah was ahead of us than we both knew he wouldn't sit around with his thumb up his ass, he'd be preparing to meet Dean and I.

"We need to get ready for that eventuality then, Dean," I answered.

My brother looked at me, a serious look in his eye, "than we had better figure out how we're gonna stop him."

I looked down at my food, I still had no idea at all what we were going to do to stop Jonah, either by killing him or somehow convince him that the Apocalypse was not happening and I was not evil.

"It feels like we're running, Dean, it's like we've been running our entire lives and I can't stand it anymore. I don't want to run away anymore," I said. To tell the truth I hated the feeling of running from something- it was a feeling I was very familiar with- and I didn't like how, now, it made me seem weak and cowardly.

"You done?" My brother asked- I wasn't sure if he was talking about dinner or the short voicing of my emotions- he had finished his meal but over half of mine was still sitting untouched.

"Yeah, I'm not hungry anymore," I answered and Dean flicked some bills onto the table and stood.

We drove slowly back to the motel. Dean tried to speak a few times but I sort of shut down on him- I was tired and stressed out and just wanted to sleep and be gratefully dead to the world for a least a couple of hours.

Once inside the room I sat down on my bed and lay back with a sigh. Dean sat at the small, wobbly table that was squeezed into a corner.

My brother picked up the television remote; surfed for a few minutes but after finding nothing really interesting, stopped at a movie channel presentation of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part II' just for the background noise.

I stood and began pacing back and forth across the room, past my brother who was watching the TV around me as I blocked his view every couple of seconds.

"Sam," Dean muttered as his eyes tracked the movie.

"Sam!" Dean said louder and I stopped walking.

"What?" I snapped and raked a hand through my hair.

"Calm down, will ya?" Dean said, looking at me with a concerned expression.

"I- I…" I stammered.

"How many pills do you have left?" Dean asked.

"Huh, enough for tomorrow," I muttered.

"That's it?" Dean exclaimed.

I nodded, "that's it. I've been trying to make them last-"

"Jesus Sam!" Dean stood and almost shouted. He didn't sound angry, just worried and scared.

I looked at my brother, unsure of what to say.

"We've… we've just got to get to Jonah quickly… before…" I said, I wasn't sure before what exactly but I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

"Damn it!" I shouted at the fact that my stomach was a huge ball of nerves and I couldn't get a frigging sentence out without stumbling over the words.

Dean got up and was at my side immediately, "hey Sammy, it's okay, calm down, okay? Take deep breaths… I'm not mad at you, okay?"

My brother put a strong hand on my shoulder and guided me to sit down on my bed, "I know, Dean."

I put one hand to my forehead and rested my elbow on my knee. Dean's hand moved and he made as if to rub my back but I stood up abruptly. My brother's hand dropped down onto his lap and he looked at me helplessly.

I took a deep, steadying breath and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Sam? You 'kay?" Dean asked quietly.

I nodded, "yeah, I just need some rest."

Dean nodded. It was still early, only ten to five but I felt exhausted. My brother moved from my bed and I took a seat on the slightly dusty coverlet. I pulled my shoes off and set them at the end of the bed.

I pulled the top sheet down and climbed slowly under the covers. My brother watched as I pulled the blankets up to my chin and closed my eyes.

I woke up feeling groggy and like I hadn't slept at all. I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand between the beds and saw it was seven forty-three in the evening.

I sat up and my brother turned to me from where he sat on his own bed. He had been watching the news and had a solemn expression on his face.

"What?" I began tiredly but Dean just turned up the volume on the TV so I could hear the reporter as she spoke slowly and clearly into the camera:

"-was last seen leaving her job at a local video store late last night. Witnesses say they saw a large black van swerve out of the parking lot shortly after young woman left the store."

The reporter walked over to the boulevard and the camera pointed downward to show where the tires of a heavy vehicle had ripped up the sod- leaving muddy skid marks in the street.

"The Montgomery police are asking anyone with information to please come forward-" Dean muted the volume and looked expectantly at me.

"Her name's Josie Mulvaney," Dean said, "and who do we know who drives a black van?"

"Jonah," I muttered, now fully awake.

"He kidnapped a girl so we'd follow him?" I asked.

"Looks like," my brother shrugged.

I sighed.

Dean nodded, "how're you feeling?"

"Alright," I muttered.

"How long will it take us to get to Montgomery?"

"Two or three days," Dean said.

I stood and stretched, "let's start out now."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "now?"

I nodded, "this can't wait Dean. That girl's life may be in danger and it will take us at least forty-eight hours to get to her."

"Okay," Dean stood and scooped up his duffle bag, "but you're driving."

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow- I was surprised Dean was going to let me drive the Impala, his baby, after he'd been paranoid that I'd crash it or something just a few days earlier.

"What?" Dean asked, looking genuinely confused by my expression.

I silently decided that'd I'd pull over and get Dean to take the wheel if I was going to freak out or anything… before we did get into an accident.

SPN

We arrived in Montgomery after only two and a half days. I had let Sam drive most of the time because I didn't want him to feel like I was treating him like an invalid or something.

As we cruised down the streets of Alabama's capital city, my brother and I kept our eyes open for any building or structure that could be used by Jonah and his apprentices to hide out and keep Josie captive. We passed many factories and office buildings but none that were abandoned or renting where someone could squat for a good couple of days.

Before going any further into the city, my brother and I checked into a motel. The place was tiny but clean and would be okay for our (hopefully) short stay.

Once checked into the motel and after a quick survey of the room Sam and I were back on the streets. I drove this time and Sam was telling me which direction to go- normally I would be very annoyed but if this was what it took for my brother to feel in control and kept his mind occupied, away from darker thoughts I knew must be encroaching, than I was happy.

"There are only so many places you can stash a girl without attracting unwanted attention," I grumbled.

Unfortunately, all of the factories and warehouses we had checked out so far had been fully operational and occupied.

"I want to go to the old industrial section again," Sam said.

"We were already there," I complained.

"Please," Sam asked, "I just have a feeling about this Dean. It feels like we missed something."

We had already spent the better part of an hour driving past the silent factories that were no longer in use and had found nothing.

"You sure?" I asked my brother.

He persisted, "I think we need to take a closer look at the factories down by the river."

I nodded and turned the Impala around and headed back toward the Alabama River.

I drove down the deserted streets passed the riverfront factories that all looked dark and dismal.

Sam stared out the passenger window, looking for any indication of occupation in one of the factories.

"Hold up," Sam said and I stopped the car in front of a large redbrick building.

"What?" I asked.

"I thought I saw a light in there," my brother said and pointed at the factory's large windows.

I peered through the window, passed Sam and saw nothing. Just a dark, abandoned building.

Before I could say anything Sam had opened his door and slipped out.

"Sam!" I breathed but he didn't stop. I cut the engine and slipped out after him, running in a crouch to keep up with him. I was silently thankful that the Impala was black, which made her less noticeable in the dark and perfect for subterfuge.

I didn't think anyone would be in here. The building was really, really old- the bricks looked pockmarked with age and the mortar was crumbling, the parking lot was covered in weeds growing through cracks in the asphalt.

For all I knew Sam may just have seen the reflection of the Impala's headlights in the glass of the windows.

As we crept closer I caught a whiff of something sour, almost acidic and old leather. I could also see that the lower windows of the building were all broken and only the top ones remained- guess that squashed my reflection idea.

Pressed against the cool brick siding of the building Sam and I peeked in through the window and saw the bare concrete main floor but no sign of life.

"What is this place?" I asked quietly, putting my sleeve over my nose to try and cover the stench emanating from the building.

"I think it used to be a shoe factory," Sam whispered.

"Smells like a tannery," I grumbled and my brother shushed me.

I thought that maybe Sam had caught sight of some homeless guy squatting in the building and that he'd made a run for it when he'd heard the Impala's engine- that would explain why it was deserted now.

Sam touched my shoulder and motioned that he was going around to the back.

Damn, I swore inwardly and followed Sam as he silently moved.

Around the back of the building there were four large, corrugated steel garage doors- for shipping and receiving I guessed. Sam and I were not close to the building, as we had gone around we made our way out into the spacious parking area and now crouched about ten feet away from the doors.

Sam stared at the back of the building as though trying to see if he could tell there'd been someone around here recently when I caught sight of movement from the corner of my eye.

I grabbed my brother's shirt and pulled him down with me so that we were lying as flat as possible against the pavement.

The person moved quickly and quietly passed the garages and slipped through a small utility door.

The young man had illuminated his way with a flashlight and although we couldn't see his face his clothes were clearly visible in the light- brown camouflage pants, Nike sneakers, brown t-shirt and jean jacket.

Sam looked at me with a look of recognition on his face, "he's one of Jonah's boys."

Ever so slowly and quickly, Sam and I made it back to the Impala.

"How are we going to do this Dean?" Sam asked as he stared at the industrial section of Montgomery whip past us on our way back to the motel.

"Don't worry Sammy, I think I have an idea," I said and gave him one of my patented Confident-Dean-Winchester-Has-A-Plan smiles.

Sam looked at me with a slightly worried expression.

SPN

When Dean told me his idea I must admit it sounded insane. I know, who am I to call any idea insane? This coming from the guy who decided to take a swan dive into the Devil's Cage, right?

"Do you really think Jonah's stupid enough to fall for it?" I asked skeptically.

"He's dumb enough to believe all those stories about you" Dean countered.

"I don't know," I hesitated and Dean tried to give me the 'puppy' look.

His eyes got really wide and watery and instead of adorable he only succeeded in looking like he was about to sneeze.

I chuckled and shook my head.

"I guess this is better than no plan at all," I said and Dean gave a winning smile.

Early the next morning, after gathering the supplies we would need, we drove with all speed to the industrial section of the city and parked in front of the shoe factory.

"Jonah's gonna know we're here anyway so why hide the car?" Dean said rhetorically, answering a question I hadn't asked.

Dean and I went around the back of the building, silently though, from old habits I guess and went through the open utility door. Once inside we found an old metal catwalk that would hang over the main floor of the building.

I motioned to Dean and we climbed the metal stairs and onto the walkway. As Dean and I stealthily crept across the catwalk, I looked down and saw Jonah standing in the middle of the floor, following our progress with his eyes. He made no move however. I swallowed hard, my mouth was terribly dry and I felt sweat begin to bead on my forehead and a slide down my back- we had no idea how this was going to play out, we couldn't predict the hunter's moves- all I could do was pray Dean's idea worked and we got out of this in one piece.

I could see the huddled form of Josie on the floor close by Jonah's feet and felt my heart go out for the girl. She must be so confused and terrified. I decided that whatever happened I would not let the girl die. I could not let her die because some of some lunatic hunter… and me.

Dean knew that this was my show. He knew that Jonah was after me and although he didn't like it, he had agreed to let me do the talking. We reached the end of the metal walkway and began to climb down the steep stairway toward the hunter and his 'apprentices'.

SPN

Jonah Thompson smiled to himself as he heard the sound of footsteps on the gangway above him and his apprentices.

The hunter looked down at the young woman tied up at his feet. Her hands were held behind her back with a pair of Plasticuffs and an old red bandana was used as a gag, knotted at the back of her head. The woman had wavy hair, dyed black but he could see where her natural brown roots come through at the crown of her head. Her light brown eyes were covered with a second bandana, black this time, to keep her from identifying her kidnappers. The girl wore a very short denim skirt and white halter top. They had just grabbed her off the street, they didn't even know who she was or care where she had come from- all Jonah cared about was that the Winchesters would follow her to this location.

Once again Jonah Thompson looked up and he could make out the dark forms of the two boys creeping along the metal walkway.

He held up a hand to his apprentices not to shoot. Not yet at least.

The hunter's eyes tracked the Winchesters as they made their way down the staircase, weapons drawn.

Dean's face had a considerable amount of stubble on it since Jonah had last seen him and his brother had dark circles under his eyes. They both looked dead tired.

Jonah smiled amiably.

"So good of you two to come so quickly," he said, "you can lower the guns boys, I won't hurt you."

"Bullshit!" Dean snapped and his eyes darted around the wide expanse of abandoned factory to seek out Jonah's apprentices.

Jonah, as if in a show of good faith, set his own semi-automatic on the floor out of reach of the captive girl but within close proximity should he need it.

He never took his eyes from the two Winchester boys as he moved.

"Dean," he heard Sam mutter and watched as the youngest Winchester crouched and sat his gun on the concrete.

Dean followed his brother's example though with obvious reluctance.

"Let the girl go Jonah," Sam said with authority in his voice, "we both know she was bait to get me here so let her leave unharmed."

Jonah shrugged and snapped his fingers, "Donnelly, untie the girl and show her the way out."

Jonah's only female apprentice stepped up and hauled the girl to her feet, she pulled out her switchblade and cut through the cuffs and then pulled the bandana down around the girl's neck. She kept the girl's eyes covered though.

The girl turned with Donnelly's hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm and moved her head in the direction Sam Winchester's voice had come from.

"Thank you," the girl whispered in a hoarse voice as Donnelly led her out of the building. Jonah did not like the look she had on her face; her expression told him she saw the boy as her savior.

Far from it, Jonah thought and turned his attention back to the Winchesters.

"What do you want Jonah? To talk? I can explain everything to you if you would just hear me out," Sam suggested.

Jonah smiled and shook his head, "the time for talking has long since passed Sam Winchester. I will not be caught up in the same web of lies that seems to have ensnared your brother."

Dean Winchester gave Jonah a scathing look but Sam glanced quickly at him to keep him silent.

"Jonah, please, I'm begging you. Just give me five minutes, okay? Five minutes and I'll tell you the truth-" Sam began but Jonah raised a hand and cut him of mid-sentence.

"I know the truth Sam Winchester. I see right through your filthy lies to see the truth of who you are, what you are," Jonah said.

The youngest Winchester looked like he didn't know what to say. His brother looked like he wanted nothing more than to pick up his weapon and defend his sibling, no matter how evil he was.

Sam Winchester was looking at Jonah with an expression akin to a puppy- the hunter sneered, whatever black magic the boy was trying to pull would not work on him!

"What am I then Jonah? Please, tell me, 'cause I would really like to know," Sam asked in a quiet voice.

Jonah saw Dean glance almost frightfully at his younger brother.

"Sam, don't-" Dean began but Sam shook his head forcefully.

What was Sam Winchester planning on doing? Jonah thought with nervous anticipation.

But all the boy did was speak up again, in a louder voice this time, more confident.

"What do all those stories say about me, Jonah? What do other hunters think of me? What do you believe I am?"

Jonah smiled. If the youngest Winchester was asking than he would be more than happy to oblige, besides, what could it hurt? The boy would not be leaving here anytime soon.

"You are evil; you're a monster… a wolf in the clothes of a sheep, the only purpose you have is to send lambs to the slaughter," Jonah said.

Sam Winchester didn't as much as blink. Jonah suspected he knew this information already.

"I have heard you perform black magic and witchcraft, that you have visions of murder and death, that you are the consort of demons and have even spoken to the Devil himself," Jonah continued.

Jonah was surprised when Sam Winchester's lips curled up into a slight smile.

"You have three of the four correct," the boy said.

Jonah watched as Dean Winchester looked at his brother with a shocked expression but at another glance from Sam, the older boy said nothing.

The hunter couldn't help but puff his chest out proudly. Here he had Sam Winchester, standing before him of his own free will no less, actually confirming his suspicions as though they were discussing the outcome of a football game or the weather forecast!

"You do not deserve to live, Sam Winchester, you taint everything you touch. You deserve to burn in Hell for all eternity for your crimes!" Jonah said enthusiastically and this time Sam Winchester did not smile, did not agree with him. The look on the boy's face showed instead, deep sorrow and a haunted expression.

Jonah had hit a nerve then. He grinned like a madman.

"Don't you ever say that to him you son of a bitch!" Dean shouted and started forward, still weaponless but seemingly intent on killing Jonah anyway.

"Dean. No!" Sam Winchester shouted and had barely stepped forward before the sound of a gun silenced everyone.

Jonah watched as Carlson lowered his weapon and looked to him- the hunter nodded at his apprentice in approval.

"Dean, no, Dean," Jonah's attention was turned to Sam Winchester who was now crouched over the lifeless body of his brother.

Carlson had shot the eldest Winchester once in the chest and the man had fallen forward, now lying motionless.

Sam Winchester continued to call his brother's name but seemed afraid to touch him.

The boy looked up at Jonah and the hunter saw tears in his eyes, threatening to overflow.

Damn, the boy certainly was a good actor, Jonah thought.

Sam Winchester stood and glared daggers at the hunter.

"You didn't have to kill him Jonah! He did nothing to you," Sam said in a deadly voice.

Jonah shrugged, "he wasn't going to leave here today whether or not he did anything to me, Sam Winchester."

Sam Winchester said nothing.

"I stand by what I said, you know, I think that you do deserve Hell," Jonah said and had the satisfaction of seeing that same expression cut across the boy's face as when he had first spoken of damnation.

Jonah smiled, "You're a monster, Sam Winchester and your mother should have strangled you at birth."

Sam Winchester opened his mouth once, pressed his lips together and cleared his throat, blinking furiously.

"If you're going to kill me Jonah, then don't prolong it anymore. I know you want to kill me so why are you waiting?" Sam Winchester finally spoke.

Jonah smiled and picked up his gun.

Sam Winchester took a step forward and looked Jonah straight in the eye. The expression on the boy's face was completely unreadable- Jonah could not tell if the boy was sad or angry.

Jonah cocked the gun, aimed and pulled the trigger.

Sam Winchester collapsed on the ground, his hands going to his left leg, just above his knee. Jonah watched as blood seeped between the boy's fingers and pattered onto the concrete floor.

"I didn't miss if that's what you're thinking- I still have questions to ask you, boy," Jonah crouched down and spoke.

"Ask what you want and then kill me!" Sam Winchester spat.

Jonah chuckled; enjoying the boy's pained expression.

"Why did the demons in the gas station not attack you and your brother?" Jonah asked calmly.

"I don't know," Sam Winchester said through gritted teeth.

"You lie," Jonah said.

"I am not," the boy spoke again.

Jonah aimed the gun again, at the boy's other leg.

"Tell me the truth. One, two, three…" Jonah counted off before out the corner of his eye he caught movement behind Sam Winchester and Kaiser called out.

SPN

"BOSS!" Heinrich Kaiser shouted as he saw Dean Winchester get to his feet and deftly kick his weapon to his brother.

Quick as lightning, from years of training and experience, Sam Winchester took up the gun as it slid across the smooth floor to him and pointed it at Jonah.

A shot rang out for a second time to echo in the abandoned factory, causing everyone to freeze where they stood.

Kaiser stared wide eyed at Sam Winchester and his brother, than his gaze shifted to his boss, now lying dead on the floor, a bullet wound in his throat.

Dean Winchester moved quickly and took the weapon from his brother's grip.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean said, "he's dead."

Sam Winchester looked around with a shocked expression.

Dean looked up at Jonah's apprentices who now approached the Winchesters cautiously.

"Stay back!" the eldest Winchester warned, "unless you wanna end up like him," pointing at Jonah's body.

"How did you? How are you still alive?" Kaiser asked, "I saw Jonah shoot you in the chest."

Dean Winchester gave a cunning smile and unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt to reveal a dark blue Kevlar vest beneath.

The older Winchester brother reached out a hand and helped his younger sibling to stand, supporting him and keeping weight off his injured leg.

"Let's get the Hell out of here," Dean muttered and looked at Kaiser with a challenging expression.

"I only kill monsters, I do not harm my fellow men," Kaiser said and moved out of the way as the Winchesters slowly made their way past.

While he had been watching Jonah question, and torment Sam Winchester, he thought back to the day he had first seen the young man with his family.

Jonah had instructed Kaiser to follow Sam Winchester- tracking being his specialty. Kaiser had watched Sam Winchester as he drove home from Butte one evening, had staked out a position in which to watch the house through the night. At that time Kaiser did not know what Jonah was looking for- all Kaiser saw in Sam Winchester was a young man, a husband and father like the millions of others in America.

The next morning Kaiser watched as the small family walked down the quiet, dirt road past their house and pasture. Kaiser saw Sam Winchester's wife with her long, black hair in a French braid, her red lips curved up in a smile, and (through the binoculars) her sparkling grey eyes. Sam Winchester's wife, Sarah, pushed a baby carriage Kaiser knew held their infant son, Aaron, born just this past April. Their young daughter, Faith, held one of her father's hands and one of her mother's, skipping happily along between them, her dark brown curls bouncing up and down with the movement.

As Kaiser watched the family he couldn't make himself see what Jonah saw- here, walking cheerfully down a rural road in Montana was not a monster, but a retired hunter who just wished to be left alone and spend the rest of his days with his loved ones. All Kaiser saw was a man and he felt himself begin to doubt. He began to doubt Jonah Thompson's assurances that Sam Winchester indeed was evil incarnate, he began to doubt the gossip and stories of other hunters he had met over the years claiming that the man he now watched had been involved in half the conspiracies people said he was.

Jonah's suspicions of Sam Winchester had been unfounded though, Kaiser came to realize this as he watched the boy grieve over his brother's death and deny any association with the demons in the gas station. Kaiser knew that Sam Winchester would also continue to deny Jonah's accusations until his boss had killed him.

As the thick doors of the factory slammed shut behind the Winchester brothers Kaiser looked at his companions.

"Jonah Thompson died during a hunt, got it? The Winchesters were not involved whatsoever," Kaiser orchestrated what would be the tale of the hunter's brave, death at the hands of an enraged beast while ending its life in the process.

Kaiser looked down at his boss's body, "let's clean this mess up and go home, boys."

SPN

Sam didn't talk as we moved slowly to the Impala. I think he might have been in shock both from the wound in his leg and from killing another person.

Still holding onto my brother, I got the passage side door open and helped him inside.

"Keep pressure on it Sammy," I instructed as I went around to my side and slipped into the seat.

Sam had his head lowered, one hand on his leg, as he watched the blood continue to soak through his jeans.

I started the Impala and peeled out of the large, cracked parking lot and toward the closest hospital.

"So much blood," I heard Sam whisper.

"Nah, you'll be fine," I glanced over at Sam and saw that he was now looking at his blood-slick palm.

"There's so much blood on my hands," he continued, seemingly unaware that I had even spoken.

"Keep pressing down Sam," I said loudly and took my brother's wrist, placing his hand back on the wound.

I stared straight ahead so I wouldn't miss the turnoff that would lead to the hospital. My chest hurt like a bitch and I knew I'd have one Hell of a bruise where the bullet had hit the vest but otherwise I was unharmed. I was worried about Sam though, he was losing a lot of blood and I was afraid he had been hit in a vital artery and he'd bleed out before I could get him help.

I pressed my foot down on the accelerator as I saw Sam sway in his seat and lean against the door of the car, he cheek pressed against the window.

Sam also had a Kevlar vest on underneath his shirt and I felt like a prick because he had ended up hurt- I hadn't know what Jonah would do but I had been unprepared for the hunter torturing my brother even though I knew I should have known better.

I had actually thought of the idea of wearing Kevlar and feigning death because of that stupid 'Harry Potter' movie. It might sound ridiculous but while Sam slept I had watched it, just to past the time, and I after seeing the part where the title character pretends to be dead before waking up and killing the villain, I thought something like that might fool that loony nutjob of a hunter, Thompson. I had snuck into an army supply shop and 'borrowed' the vests- thinking that if Jonah shot either Sam or I in the abdomen, we could pretend to be dead and surprise the hunter when he wasn't expecting it since we'd most likely have our guns taken away.

The plan was very rough at best but it had worked, up until the time Jonah shot Sam in the leg and I knew I needed to act soon before he killed my brother.

I swerved into the parking lot of the hospital, nearly missing my turn and running over the curb as well. I stopped as soon as I was in front of the sliding doors.

I flung my door open and ran to the passenger's side. As I opened my brother's door I caught him so he wouldn't fall onto the sidewalk.

"C'mon Sam, I can't carry you in," I muttered and tapped my brother's cheek.

Sam's eyes opened half way and immediately darted to me.

"I need your help to get you inside," I explained, gripping my brother under the arms as I pulled him out of the car, hoping he'd get to his feet.

Luckily, Sam didn't seem too out of it and placed his weight on his good leg, lifting the left one slightly so it wouldn't pain him.

Once Sam was upright I slid his arm around my shoulders so I had more secure grip on him and we passed through the sliding doors of the hospital

We stumbled inside, Sam had started to list somewhat to the side, away from me.

"Donttouchme," he muttered all one word.

I ignored my brother and instead shouted, "we need a doctor! Police officers!" I called out to the nurses and patients milling about and explained as well, why Sam and I had bullet-proof vests on under our civilian clothes.

I was sure I had a fake police badge stuffed somewhere in the truck of the Impala anyway so that would help a great deal with the farce.

A couple of nurses and a doctor who had been walking down the hall came running.

"Can he walk?" a nurse asked me since Sam's eyes had closed to mere slits.

"I think he'll need help," I grunted as I felt Sam go limp beneath me and I grabbed his shoulders to prevent him from sliding to the floor.

C'mon bro, I thought, you've come out of worse scrapes than this strutting, so why are you acting like a girl and fainting on me now?

One of the two nurses dashed down a hallway for a second but returned, pushing a stretcher in front of her.

I managed to heave Sam onto the rolling bed with a little help from the two nurses. I looked up in time to see a burly orderly coming forward a few minutes too late.

"It's alright, Ron, we've got him," the doctor told the man and he stayed close by but out of the way.

The nurses began rolling Sam down a hallway while the doctor spoke to me.

"It's a gunshot to his leg. I drove as fast as I could but he's lost a lot of blood, he might be going into shock," I said and the doctor didn't seem annoyed that I was doing her job for her, diagnosing my brother before she could get a closer look at him.

"Could you stay in the waiting room please? I'll assess your partner's condition and then let you know what I'm going to do about getting him back onto his feet," the doctor said in her accented voice and I stopped walking.

I was worried about Sam but not terribly so. The wound should be relatively minor and so I made my easy way to the nurses' station and accepted the stack of paperwork the nurse handed me to fill out. I sat down on an old, brown chair and began scribbling down information on my brother while I waited for the doctor to return with news.

After around two hours the doctor came over to me with a smile on her face.

"You're partner's just out of surgery now. The wound wasn't too bad but it did tear some ligaments and tendons and it will take some time to heal but there shouldn't be any permanent damage. I'd like him to refrain from strenuous activities for at least six weeks and he'll need to use a cane to get around for twelve weeks or so."

"Can I see him?" I asked.

The doctor nodded, "he should be waking up any time now."

She led me down the hallway and showed me into Sam's room. My brother was lying in bed, propped up on pillows, eyes closed and apparently sleeping.

I pulled up the chair that was set aside for visitors and sat next to the bed; I reached out and laid a hand on the crisp white sheets, though not touching Sam- I didn't want to startle him.

"Hey bro," I whispered, "how you feeling?"

Slowly Sam opened his eyes, "Dean?"

"Who else would I be?" I smiled.

Sam frowned as though he had indeed been expecting someone else.

"That sure was a close one, eh?" I said.

Sam looked up at me again, this time I noticed his green eyes were very dark and he had that puppy expression on his face.

"What's the matter?" I asked, immediately worried.

"I killed him," Sam said in barely a whisper.

"Yeah, so what? He was gonna kill you," I hissed.

Sam's gaze shifted down and I watched as he stared at his hands, now cleaned of blood.

"How's your leg?" I asked.

Sam shrugged, "feels like someone tried to rip it off but other than that its fine."

I chuckled and told him what the doc had said.

"Can we go home now Dean? Back to Montana?" Sam asked in a small voice that didn't really suit his size, like someone had stuffed an eight year old into the body of a grown man.

I reached out tentatively and brushed my brother's bangs away from his eyes, "yeah Sammy. Now we can go home."

Once the doctor had checked on Sam's leg, assessing the stitches and gave him a clean bill of health we were on our way back to the motel to pack up.

We stopped quickly at the medical supply store right beside the hospital and got a cane for Sam, just a plain wooden one that would be work well for the few weeks he'd need it.

Sam unfolded himself from the seat of the Impala a little slower than usual and limped around the car to follow me into the motel room.

"Hurry up Gimpy," I said as I entered the room and began packing my stuff into my duffle.

Sam ignored me and instead asked if we had any painkillers.

"I think we have some in my bag," I answered and began to paw through the contents of my duffle before pulling out a bottle of Tylenol.

I tossed the small red and white container to Sam, who caught it, shook two pills out onto his palm and swallowed them without water.

I was worried about Sam. He was in obvious pain from his injury and would soon be running on empty once the effects of the PTSD meds wore off. I was concerned about hallucinations and flashbacks although so far there had been nothing, just nightmares which I figured we'd be able to handle until we could get Sam's medication.

Don't worry, I thought, Sam's strong, he'll be fine.

We packed our duffle bags in silence. I carried the luggage to the Impala and sat everything in the trunk while Sam gave the room an once-over to make sure nothing was left behind. I closed the lid of the trunk and sighed. It would be good to go home.

I went and checked out and returned to the car. Sam was already sitting in the passenger seat with his head leaning back and his left leg stretched out as far as it would go in the minimal space provided.

I slid into the driver's seat and glanced at my brother's face, his mouth was downturned slightly and his eyes were tightly closed.

"You know you can lie down in the back if you want," I suggested before turning on the engine.

"Just take us home Dean," Sam muttered.

"Yes sir," I said in a fake British chauffer accent but Sam didn't smile, didn't react like I thought he would.

I turned the key in the ignition and smiled as I felt the Impala come to life with her familiar growl.

I put a tape into the player and cranked the volume and Motorhead's 'Built For Speed' roared out of the speakers as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Birmingham.


	26. Severed Garden

I looked around, surprised after long hours of driving to see the beginnings of a small town. I pulled the road map from the glove compartment and checked to see where we were.

"Grantsville," I muttered to myself. We had been driving for four days and were only halfway to Birmingham.

"What do you say we stop for the night? I don't know about you Sammy but I could use a break from all this driving," Dean said with a smile.

"Fine," I muttered and huddled a little more into the seat.

My brother glanced at me for a moment and then turned his attention to the road, trying to find somewhere we could stay.

Dean turned the Impala down a long, dirt, tree-lined driveway and parked in a large open lot of a motel; the building looked like it used to be an old plantation manor in the neoclassical style- a three storey construction painted a neutral white, with large columns and a wide wrap-around porch.

My brother stepped out of the car and closed the door. I followed, stretched and looked around at the trees surrounding the motel, completely obscuring the road from view.

"Huh," Dean muttered.

"What?" I asked as we walked up toward the building.

"I do declare this to be the nicest place we've stayed at," Dean said with a grin and a fake Southern accent.

I chuckled and shook my head.

Dean opened the large double-doors and we stepped inside.

My brother gave an appreciative whistle, "I stand by my earlier comment- This is the nicest motel we've been in."

The foyer opened right into what probably used to be the main sitting area or parlor. There were long, tall windows which let in the evening sunlight, the floor was a highly polished honeyed oak, a wide marble fireplace dominated one wall, surrounded by comfortable looking chairs and a couch in a deep grey colour. The ceilings were very high and had crown molding, the walls were wainscoted. I could hear faint music in the air, a soft classical tune, Chopin's 'Nocturne' in E Flat Major, I think.

A few people occupied the large room, standing around the fireplace or sitting on the chairs. They all dressed in expensive looking clothing, suits or blouses and dress pants- one woman even wore an ocean-blue cocktail dress. Dean and I definitely looked out of place in our jeans and shirtsleeves.

As my brother and I walked up to the front desk I couldn't help but notice that a few of the well-dressed men and women were giving us looks. I had to pull my cell phone from my back pocket and check the date just to make sure Dean and I hadn't somehow travelled back in time to the antebellum era.

"Looks like something out of a William Faulkner novel," I said, mostly to myself because I knew Dean wouldn't have read his works.

The young man behind the desk looked expectantly at Dean and me.

"How can I help you two… gentlemen?" the young guy said. He couldn't be much older than me but he stared openly at my brother and I like we had just crawled out from some manhole and now stood covered in slime and shit.

"We'd like a room, Jeeves," Dean said and smiled.

"Uh huh," the young man said but say anything or make a move.

"We're serious," Dean said, his smile not fading.

The young guy looked my brother and I up and down- taking in Dean's boots, blue jeans and long-sleeved red shirt and my sneakers, khaki pants and dark brown t-shirt.

The guy smiled, and not a nice smile, a condescending one that meant we were not welcome.

"I'm sorry but all our rooms are booked," the young guy said, clearly lying through his ass.

"But there's loads of parking spaces still open in the lot," Dean said.

"I'm sorry, sir, there is no more room for you," the man shook his head.

"This is the only place in town," Dean argued.

"There's a Days Inn about twenty miles down the road. I am sure they'll have room," the guy said in a way that told us he didn't want to continue this conversation and wished we'd just slink away and leave his five-star motel for those who could afford it.

I sighed, I really wasn't in the mood to argue with some uppity guy about the existence of vacant rooms- I didn't really care where Dean and I stayed as long as it had a bed.

I turned when I heard the sharp tapping of high-heels against hardwood and saw the woman in the cocktail dress walk over.

"Wesley, what have I told you about being rude to guests?" the woman asked as she slipped behind the desk and sidled up to the young man.

The young man, Wesley, looked chagrined and glared at Dean and me.

The woman smiled in a friendly way. She appeared to be a little younger than middle aged with long, straight, light brown hair and large hazel eyes.

"I must apologize for my brother," the woman said with a strong Southern accent.

"No problem, the only thing hurt was his feelings," Dean said.

For a second I thought the woman would be angry that Dean had spoken about her sibling like that but instead she just smiled- I guess Dean could still charm the ladies.

"May I have your name?" the woman asked.

"Only if I can have yours first," Dean smiled and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Miranda, and you are?" the woman asked.

"Scharin, Doug Scharin," Dean answered.

Miranda smiled and paused to type Dean's alias into the computer. I looked at Wesley who stood to one side and looked like he was pouting, his features glowering and his arms crossed over his chest.

Now I could tell they were siblings, Wesley had the same straight hair as his sister but his was a little lighter, almost a dirty blonde colour and his eyes were brown. I saw that they had the same slightly upturned nose, wide forehead and small chin.

Dean continued to talk as I looked around the room once again, taking in my surroundings and the other people in it.

"There you are Mr. Scharin," Miranda smiled as she handed my brother the old fashioned key to our room.

"Thank you very much," Dean said.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Miranda said and my brother and I turned away to find our room.

Dean and I were on the third floor- the topmost. By the time we made it up the stairs Dean was almost panting for breath and I wasn't much better.

"You'd think they'd have put in an elevator by now," Dean complained as we walked down the hallway.

I shrugged, "maybe they want to keep the building in its original condition."

"Who cares? I'd kill to not have to trudge up any more staircases right now," Dean muttered.

The stairs and the hallway floor were of the same wood as the main floor, the walls were painted a cream colour, and the doors were eggshell white with brass numbers on them. There were framed portraits of men and women, the previous owners of the house I assumed, on the walls between the rooms and even end tables with vases of flowers in them to complete the idea that this was a very elegant establishment.

We walked down the long, narrow hall and came to the very last room on the right. Dean unlocked the door and we stepped inside.

The room was large and immaculate. Really, it looked like no one had used it for years but there was no dust or anything, it looked like one of those bedrooms they have in catalogues that are designed just to be photographed.

The wooden floor was covered with a wide, light blue rug. There were two single beds with dark blue bedcovers, the walls were white. A flat-screen TV was mounted on one wall and a small fireplace took up another one. The bathroom was big, bigger than most found in motels with a granite-topped counter, a stand-in shower and an old-fashioned claw foot bathtub.

I turned to look at Dean and he smiled.

"You stay here and hold down the fort, I'll go get our bags," my brother told me.

"Sure?" I asked, especially after Dean had complained about the amount of stairs we had just had to climb.

"Yeah," Dean waved away my question and slipped out of the room, leaving me alone.

I moved over to one of the beds and sat down, finding it extremely comfortable.

I lay down on my back and heaved a sigh. I had to admit that this place was really great but I would feel better if I was back home. I reached down to rub at my injured leg- it ached from being in the same position all day.

I took a deep breath and felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. I stared at the ceiling, wondering why I was nervous.

It's just all the stress from the PTSD.

I sat up and looked around the room for a moment. Something didn't feel right, something was off.

Nothing seemed to be out of place though; everything looked to be where it should be.

"Hm," I muttered and walked over to the tall window and stared outside.

We were at the back of the motel, or rather hotel, since it seemed a lot nicer than just a one-night-stay's-worth-of-a-place.

The view out the back was of a manicured lawn, with flower gardens and trees. I could see some people enjoying the warm weather- they walked along a stone path through the miniature arboretum.

Something at the far end of the lands caught my eye though, a fenced-in area. It was set away from the gardens, not for public display. Straining to get a better look I saw it was a grave yard- probably a family cemetery.

It had been there for a long time, tall trees shaded the grounds, casting the graves in shadow.

As I looked at the plots my feeling of unease grew.

C'mon Sam, it's just a cemetery, like every other one you've seen- and you don't get freaked out by grave yards, I told myself.

I took my gaze away from the window when I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall and Dean stepped back inside, a duffle bag in each hand.

He set the bags down on the bed closest to the door and wiped a hand across his forehead- he didn't seem as winded as his first trek up the stairs though.

"What'cha looking at?" Dean asked and moved to stand and stare out the window beside me.

"Nuthin'" I muttered, "just the gardens."

Dean looked at me from the corner of his eye, "didn't know you had a green thumb, Sammy."

"I don't," I answered, "Sarah likes gardening but it's too dry to grow any flowers in Montana."

Dean turned away and I heard him sit down on one of the beds, "this place is pretty sweet, eh? Just look at that TV, not like those hulking things in other motels we've stayed at."

"Yeah," I replied without turning around. We were still on the road after so recently encountering a dangerous hunter, far from our families, pretending to hunt still and Dean was concerned with the year the television was made in?

I guess it was just his way of dealing with things- Dean makes jokes and puts on a brave, He-Man face. I don't. I 'internalize' everything as my brother would say, take everything personally, feel guilty about things that were not my fault and, whether my fault of no, I try to fix whatever damage was caused. Dean says I shut down and shut everyone else out when things get tough, I always have, I don't know why- I think it's my way of protecting myself or others.

'You don't have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders, Sammy' Dean had told me once, 'let someone else carry it for a while'.

I, of course, had just shook my head and smiled wanly at my brother- Dean had his way of dealing and I had my way and that was the way it was going to stay, even though I knew it worried my brother.

Dean looked at me, "you don't have to keep beating yourself up about Jonah you know. You didn't get away scot free if that makes you feel better about having to kill him."

My brother indicated the cane I was leaning on and my injured leg.

"Yeah," I muttered.

Dean sighed in exasperation and stood to grab the TV remote off the mantle place.

He turned on the television and channel surfed for a couple of minutes until he found COPS.

"I'm going to take a look around," I said, I wanted to move around and didn't want to sit and watch red-necks get arrested by some police officers in Tennessee or wherever.

"Just take your phone with you," Dean said without looking at me.

"Sure," I muttered.

I stepped into the hallway and walked slowly, looking at the portraits along the walls.

They were oil paintings of men and women, girls and boys, even babies. As I looked at them I noticed they all had similar features- small chins, noses the turned up ever so slightly and wide foreheads. I thought back to Miranda and her brother, Wesley. Maybe they were the latest generation of the family to own the house- that didn't seem so far-fetched seeing as many of the old plantation families kept their properties for years and years.

I made it down the flights of stairs much easier than I had going up- I had to sidestep a well-dressed couple who looked at me like I was a servant or something- that is, that's what their look would have said if we still had servants- instead, I just got glared at.

I shook my head after I passed the two and couldn't help but think of what kind of people they allowed to stay here.

On the main floor I walked around, sort of aimlessly, looking for the way out to the back.

I saw Wesley was still at the desk and he was eyeing me, looking for a reason to kick me out or something when Miranda stepped into my field of vision.

"Hello, there," she smiled at me.

"Hi, uh, how do you get into the back…garden?" I asked, feeling like an idiot.

"Let me show you," Miranda smiled still, "it is a little difficult to figure out… the house is just so big."

We walked through the large sitting room and into a smaller room, a mud-room I'd guess, and through a pair of French doors and onto the back porch. I realized that I hadn't noticed that the narrow, white door led to the small boot-room and out to the back- it looked like it was a closet or something.

"Thanks," I said, still slightly embarrassed.

"Think nothing of it," Miranda said and paused to look closer at me, as if searching my face for something.

I stood uncomfortably under the woman's scrutiny for a moment and then she looked away.

"What happened to your leg, if you don't mind me asking?" she asked.

"Car accident, a long time ago," I lied.

"I'm sorry," Miranda said demurely.

We both stood in awkward silence until she spoke again.

"What brings you all the way out here?" she asked.

"Uh, a convention," I lied.

"What sort of convention? For work?" Miranda wondered.

"Yeah, I'm… we're… Doug and I are funeral directors," I stammered. I know, I know, where did that come from? But I wanted to get a closer look at that cemetery and at least now I had a cover that wouldn't get me kicked out of the hotel if I was caught snooping around.

Miranda gave me a look like she almost didn't believe me.

"A funeral directors convention? Sounds fun," Miranda laughed.

I smiled, politely.

"I don't think I got your name," Miranda said, her hands behind her back like a shy girl.

"Gerry Beckley," I answered, using one of the band members from America as my alias.

"I see I'm keeping you, so don't mind me, I'll be on my way now," Miranda said and walked back inside.

I watched as Miranda opened one of the French doors and closed it behind her, walking out of sight.

That was… odd, I thought. I'd never know motel/hotel personnel to be quite as friendly as she was.

Maybe that's what they were like down South, I thought. Dean and I had travelled all around the country and of course we had gone to the Southern states but mostly we had holed-up in one and two star motels, never an actual hotel, because we didn't have the money and didn't have the need, especially if we were only staying a couple of days in one place before moving on to the next case.

I strolled off the wide porch and onto the light grey flagstone path, walking slowly, appearing to enjoy the sunny weather and horticulture.

Eventually I made it to the back of the gardens and still moving as though simply wandering, headed toward the cemetery.

The graveyard was separated from the rest of the garden by a low fence. I didn't trust my injured leg enough to put my full weight on it so I walked around until I found a little gate and entered the cemetery that way.

My feeling of unease increased once I set my sneakered feet onto the consecrated ground. I looked around and saw that many of the gravestones were very old and made of white limestone, their inscriptions worn away almost to nothing on some of them. The newer ones were made of red or black granite. I walked through the grass, pass the stones and saw there were numerous statues of angels- maybe six or seven in all but that was a lot for such a small cemetery. The statues were all female, with long flowing hair and dresses, the angel's wings were birdlike and were either folded up against their backs or spread out as though they about to fly away. Some of the angels held their hands as though in prayer or one hand was held out as though in succor.

I turned my gaze away from the statues and looked at the names on the graves instead- I saw the names of men, women and children all bearing the same last name- Hobbs.

There was something about the cemetery that felt… familiar and it wasn't just the fact that I had been in a lot of graveyards in my lifetime… I don't really know how to explain it. In the fading evening light though, with all the limestone and granite headstones and the statues of angels with compassion carved into their features, the quietness of the place felt right, good, it had the same feelings I associated with the farmhouse in Montana, only stronger.

I sat down heavily on the still-warm grass with a sigh. This place felt safe and peaceful. I felt like I could comfortably stay there all night with no problem… but the feelings were more intense, it might sound odd to hear but it was almost like I belonged there.

I shook my head to clear it and stood, brushing off the seat of my pants.

I jumped when my phone vibrated in my pocket and I answered it.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"What're you doing? You've been 'looking around' for a half an hour," Dean said.

"Oh, uh, I'll come back up if you want," I muttered.

"Yeah, cause I've been starving while you're busy poking around," Dean said and hung up his phone.

I walked past the graves now, feeling strangely like I was leaving something warm and comforting behind.

I stepped easily through the gate that separated the little cemetery from the rest of the backyard and headed back through the gardens.

Before stepping inside though, I turned to look behind me, at the gravestones and went through the doorway without giving it another thought.

"Jeez Sam, how long does it take you to explore some old plantation house?" Dean grumbled from his place on the bed.

"Sorry Dean, I just, I lost track of the time," I muttered.

I saw Dean's expression turn from one of annoyance to one of mild concern.

"How you doing Sam? Really?" he asked.

"I'm alright Dean," I said and tried to look less distracted, and tired.

"Really?" Dean pressed.

"Really," I confirmed and knew that Dean would keep a close eye on me anyway.

I knew Dean wouldn't let it go for long, but he didn't say anything for the rest of the evening- not even when I ate only a little at the diner we stopped at, not when it was clear I was not paying any attention at all to the TV when we made it back to our hotel room, and still no comments from him when I took a couple of pills, hardly enough to do much good- in a way I was grateful, it seemed kind of stupid for Dean to keep asking me if I was alright when it was clear I wasn't, even though I knew he must be itching by now to ask.

At around midnight Dean and I decided to turn in and my brother flopped appreciatively down on his bed with a sigh.

I laid down on my own bed but didn't fall asleep- I could hear my brother snoring already.

For a while I just stared up at the white popcorn ceiling and listening to the late-night quiet of rural Alabama that reminded me of Montana.

I closed my eyes, listening to Dean's soft snoring and ever so slowly allowed myself to relax and attempt to get some shut-eye.

I don't know how long I had been asleep before I heard the sound.

I woke up blearily and sat up in bed. I looked to where Dean was lying only feet away, wondering if maybe he had woke me up with his snores but he was quiet now.

Sam…

I stared long and hard at my brother trying to figure out if he had been talking in his sleep.

Sam…

The voice came again- soft and just above a whisper, completely unlike Dean's voice, even when he was trying to speak quietly.

Maybe I'm just imagining it; I told myself and laid back down on the bed.

Samuel…

I frowned. Now this mysterious voice, whosever voice it was, called me by my full name- something Dean never did.

I put the pillow over my head and sighed as its fluff blocked out the sound of crickets outside and hopefully that strange voice as well.

Sam… Samuel…

I set the pillow aside, it was useless, and sat back up again.

"Who's there?" I whispered, trying not to wake Dean in the process.

I looked up when I heard the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway. The pace was not quick but leisurely.

I threw the blankets off and stood up.

I tiptoed to the door and looked out the peep-hole. The hallway was still lit up for people coming in late or leaving early and I didn't see anyone in front of our door.

It can't be Miranda, I reasoned, she doesn't know my real name.

I shrugged and turned away from the door only to hear the footsteps again. Slowly I unlocked the door and waited. When I heard the sound again I would open the door and discover the culprit.

Sam…

I heard the voice and feet patter down the stairwell- I whipped open the door and looked out- only to see the hall deserted.

Just go back to sleep, I thought, it's obviously some kid playing some stupid game.

I closed the door and looked at my sleeping brother. He wouldn't wake up if a freight train was to go by the window- my curiosity getting the better of me, I decided just to take a quick look around and then come back.

Besides, I might just be hearing things; with the PTSD I was never quite sure about that.

Without putting on socks or shoes, and just in a pair of comfortable jogging pants (I would be very embarrassed if I was seen wandering around the hotel in my boxers), and a plain white t-shirt, I slipped out of the room and padded down the hallway.

I slowly walked down the hall and then took the flights of stairs to the main floor of the building.

Once I set foot on the oak floorboards of the grand parlour I heard the voice once again calling my name but with what seemed like urgency this time.

Sam… Sam… Come to us…

Where the Hell is that coming from? I wondered.

Maybe it's a ghost, I thought. I really wouldn't be surprised if it was, in an old mansion like this, with a history that it probably had.

I walked through the fine sitting room and toward the doors that lead to the back gardens.

Yes… Come to us… Yes…

I know what you must be thinking: by now I should have woken my brother up and told him we needed to go over this place with an EMF detector and then salt-and-burn every skeleton buried in that family plot out back… but, I still wasn't fully awake, and part of me believed that I was still sleeping, that I was just having one of those vivid dreams I was often plagued with. Even if this was a ghost, I wasn't sure yet if it was dangerous. All it seemed me to want to do was find it- I know, that's completely stupid and the phantom could just be leading me into a trap, but then again, Dean and I had come across a few spirits who really don't want to harm anyone and just wish to be at peace.

Or maybe I was just hallucinating, hearing voices because of the PTSD and I was in no danger whatsoever.

I walked through the small mud room and easily opened the French doors- they were not locked- and stepped onto the stone walkway.

It was slightly cool outside, and I could see drops of dew on the petals and leaves of the plants in the garden. I looked around, unsure of where I was supposed to go.

This way… Sam…

I followed the siren song, now my feet moved of their own accord and I walked past the flowerbeds, my bare feet moving swiftly over the cool stone of the path and then later, over the dew-wet lawn.

I easily stepped over the low fence and breathed a sigh of relief when I set foot in the cemetery.

Sam… Yes… Stay here… Stay with us…

My gaze roamed over the gravestones and I moved once again, this time I walked further into the cemetery and stopped before one of the angel statues. This one had a long flowing dress, bare feet, her face cast downward and one hand held out as if to lift someone into a standing position. Her wings were flared out behind her and her stone hair was carved to look like it was flying out behind her in a breeze.

I sat down on the wet grass and leaned my back against the statue.

Yes… Stay… Here… You can stay… Forever…

Yes, I thought, it was nice here. Quiet. I could rest and not have to think about anything. I didn't have to worry about Dean or Bobby or my family being hurt, I wouldn't have to fight against angels anymore, especially if Raphael did manage to bring Lucifer back. I wouldn't have to be afraid that the Apocalypse would be re-started again.

Yes… Yes… Stay… Sleep…

That sounded like a good idea. It was pleasant outside- not too cold and not too warm, and I was very tired. Maybe I would close my eyes for a few minutes and enjoy the nighttime breeze and the country sounds of crickets and tiny frogs and then I would go back to our room.

SPN

"Hey Sammy, you ready to hit the road?" I muttered just as I was waking up. I rolled over onto my back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts.

"Sammy? You awake?" I asked, a little louder than my previous question in case he was still sleeping.

I fell silent and realized I could not hear the sound of my brother's breathing- just my own.

I sat up and saw that Sam's bed was empty and unmade. I immediately looked toward the bathroom but the door stood ajar, the interior dark.

Confused, I stood and went to Sam's bed. I laid a hand on the bed sheets and felt they were slightly cool, not warmed by body-heat that would indicate my brother had only recently gotten up. I saw his wallet sitting on the nightstand and, looking toward the room's door I saw his sneakers exactly in the same position where they'd been tossed last night. I saw the cane was leaning against the wall and that's what did it for me.

He can't have gone far without shoes or his wallet, I told myself, or the cane.

I got myself ready for the day- taking a shower, combing my hair, brushing my teeth, changing into a pair of jeans and a dark green t-shirt- going slow in case Sam decided to return from wherever he was.

With Sam still a no-show by the time I had finished getting ready for the day, I made my way downstairs to see if he was sitting in that large main room or talking to Miranda or something.

When I made it to the sitting room I saw Miranda at the desk, today wearing a yellow sun dress.

I walked over to the woman, "have you seen my… partner?" I asked. I had been about to say 'my brother' but wasn't sure if Sam had spoken to Miranda yet or even if he had given her an alias.

"Oh, Mr. Beckley?" Miranda asked innocently.

"Yeah, I was wondering where he'd wandered off to, need to get an early start and all that," I rambled.

"That's right, Mr. Beckley told me about the convention, you don't want to miss that," Miranda said.

"Convention?" I blinked like an idiot.

"The funeral directors' convention," Miranda said.

"Oh, yes, that!" I said with false realization.

"Well, no, I haven't seen Mr. Beckley since yesterday evening," Miranda said.

Damn, I thought and turned away from the woman. Where the Hell are you Sam?

"I'll let you know if I see him, Mr. Scharin," Miranda said from behind me.

"Thanks," I mumbled and decided to head outside since yesterday Sam had been looking at the flower gardens.

It took me a couple of minutes to realize that the single door that looked like the entrance into a closet actually lead out to some small boot room and then outside.

Since it was still early, only nine-thirty, no one was in the garden. I walked along the flagstone path, hands behind my back as though admiring the horticulture. I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of my tall brother, not that he'd been too hard to miss- his six foot four frame dwarfed many other people and often made him stick out like a sore thumb.

I made it to the end of the path and still had not seen my brother.

Maybe he wasn't out here at all, I thought. Besides, Sam wouldn't just wander around out in some hotel backyard in bare feet.

I frowned and my gaze swept over the garden again.

I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A low-lying fence, painted black that appeared to contain something cut off from public view.

I took a few steps forward and could see gravestones, old and new, and realized that it was a graveyard. It probably housed the remains of the family who had owned the plantation turned hotel for generations.

I had a sneaking suspicion that Sam would find something like that little graveyard fascinating. Perhaps he had walked over to investigate.

I made my own way over to the fenced-in plot of land and clambered over the fence with little difficulty.

I saw the stone markers and the angel statues but still no Sam.

The place wasn't very large, so I didn't understand if I couldn't see my brother here, then where could he be.

"Sam?" I asked quietly.

"Sammy, you here?" I stepped passed the new granite headstones and traveled toward the back of the cemetery, now walking through the faded, white, moss-covered limestone markers.

"Sam!" I called, louder this time.

I stopped and looked around, "Sam! Sam, where are you?"

I felt stupid, it was obvious my brother wasn't here but I continued to search as though he would appear out of thin air if I kept looking for him.

I fished my cell phone from my pocket and punched Sam's number on speed dial- I should have done this as soon as I realized he wasn't in the room.

The phone rang, and rang and rang.

"Damn it Sam, you-" I cursed but stopped mid-sentence when I saw the still figure of my brother lying beneath the stone statue of an angel.

"Shit," I mumbled and ran toward my brother and dropped onto my knees beside him.

He appeared to be asleep, his eyes were closed and his hands were held limply at his sides. His hair was slightly damp with sweat and his face was pale.

"Sam," I said and took hold of his shoulder.

I received no response.

"Sammy, wakey-wakey," I said loudly.

My brother remained asleep.

"C'mon man, this is no time to be sleeping on the job," I muttered and shook my brother.

I let him go and he fell back onto the ground gracelessly.

Oh man, I thought, please don't be dead, please, for God's sake wake up.

I took hold of one of Sam's limp arms and checked for a pulse at his wrist. I felt one, it was weak and staggered but it was there.

I looked around and knew I needed to get Sam out of here if I was going to help him.

I reached down and grabbed my brother under his arms and hauled him up. He was too heavy and tall for me to properly pick up so I had to settle for half-carrying, half-dragging him.

Walking backwards I pulled my unconscious sibling along behind me, checking behind myself to make sure I didn't trip over any gravestones and glancing at my brother ever couple of seconds.

"Damn Sam, you put on some weight or something?" I mumbled. I knew I wasn't going to get Sam's body over the fence, no matter how low it was and so I had to drag my brother even farther in the direction of the small gate that allowed entrance into the cemetery for those who didn't want to jump the fence.

I noticed that my brother, besides the shirt he had gone to sleep in, had pulled on some old jogging pants… so I guessed that meant he had come out here of his own free will, despite the fact that he wasn't wearing anything on his feet.

I got to the gate and set my brother down gently so I'd have a hand free to unlock it. I swung the gate open wide and dragged my brother through, not even bothering to close the gate after us.

I continued away from the cemetery until I heard Sam give a low moan.

I looked down at my brother and saw his face scrunched up and his eyelids fluttering.

Setting him down, I dropped to his side.

"Hey, Sam can you hear me?" I asked.

He gave another groan as a response.

I sighed and lightly tapped his face.

"C'mon Sasquatch, time to wake up now," I said, calling him by the nickname I hadn't used in years.

"Oh my goodness!" I heard a female voice exclaim from the direction of the house and turned to see Miranda standing on the footpath, near the door, but with a perfect view of my brother and I.

The woman stepped through the grass, daintily because she wore yellow stilettos to match her dress and stood just behind my shoulder.

"What happened Mr. Scharin?" Miranda asked.

"I don't know," I muttered as I continued to revive my brother.

I gripped his shoulders and shook him slightly, careful not to jar him too much.

Sam's eyelids fluttered and then stopped. He breathed a sigh and went still again.

"Shit!" I swore.

I didn't know how to get my brother to wake up so I turned to Miranda, "call an ambulance!"

The woman dashed back inside while I stayed with Sam and continued to unsuccessfully to wake him up.

As I waited for the paramedics to arrive I couldn't help but wonder why Sam had been in the graveyard in the first place.

Why would he leave and… and fall asleep there?

Miranda showed the medics out to where Sam and I were and she stood close by, wringing her hands nervously. By now we had attracted some attention and the other hotel patrons were standing in the garden, watching as the paramedics checked Sam's vitals and asked me questions.

Maybe we should have listened to Wesley and gone to the Days Inn instead. At least there weren't any creepy, coma-inducing cemeteries there.

The paramedics got Sam onto a gurney and I followed them as they went around the side of the mansion and out to the parking lot where the ambulance waited.

One of the medics turned to me with an expectant look.

"I'm his brother," I said and the guy said I could hop in the back with my brother and the other paramedics if I wanted.

I didn't care that Miranda heard, in fact, I planned on talking to her later on, once I knew Sam would be alright.

We rode to the small hospital nearby and I nervously followed my brother and the paramedics and then later Sam and the nurses and doctor who took over from the medics.

The doctor asked me a lot of questions as Sam was wheeled down the hallway on a stretcher.

"Did he eat or drink anything last night that might have caused an allergic reaction?" Dr. Monroe asked.

I thought back to dinner last night, I had eaten a rather good cheeseburger and fries, while Sam only had half a tuna sandwich and some of the fries from my plate.

"No, nothing out of the ordinary doc," I answered with a shake of my head.

I watched as the doctor checked something off on a list he had on a clipboard.

"Does your brother take any medications?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," I said and listed off the three medications Sam took for the PTSD.

Dr. Monroe looked at me for a second, raised an eyebrow and then scribbled the names of the medicines onto the list.

"Does he smoke? Has he ever smoked before? How much alcohol would you say he drinks on average? Has your brother ever taken any drugs like cocaine, marijuana, heroin… or any other recreational or illegal drugs?" I was barraged with question after question.

"He doesn't smoke, never has… he doesn't drink a lot of alcohol- doesn't mix well with the meds, you know, uh… he's never taken any drugs like that but he drinks coffee like a fiend," I answered.

The doctor nodded and marked his list up some more.

"Is there anything else you can think of about your brother's medical history that might help us?"

There were a lot of things, all the times Sam had taken a hit to the head, all the busted ribs and other broken bones, his addiction to demon blood, etc.

"He was in a coma for three months a few years ago," I answered.

"What caused that?" the doc asked, sounding interested.

"Uh, a hunting accident," I answered, "we were hunting deer up in Alaska and he-."

Dr. Monroe held up a hand to stop me from explaining further, apparently all he needed to hear was 'hunting' and 'accident'.

Just before the doctor left I told him about the injury to Sam's leg and I found myself hoping he hadn't caught an infection or something.

"Alright, you'll need to stay in the waiting room but I will let you know if there's any change in your brother's condition," Doctor Monroe said and I was left standing in the middle of the hallway while I watched them roll my brother away from me.

I wandered slowly to the waiting room and sat down heavily on one of the green vinyl chairs with a sad sigh.

I fished my phone from my pocket and called Bobby- he needed to know about this, especially if it turned out to be something serious.

The phone rang once and then Bobby picked up, "what's wrong?"

I hesitated. How did he know something wasn't right?

"Well, c'mon Dean, either something's the matter or did you just call to let me know how much I mean to you," Bobby's sarcastic voice grumbled over the phone.

"Sam's in the hospital," I finally answered.

"What! What's happened?" Bobby exclaimed.

" It's… really weird," I muttered.

"Well, spill Dean, how did Sam end up in the hospital?" Bobby asked.

"I… don't really know Bobby. We were just stopped at this hotel in… God-Knows-Where, Alabama and, anyway it looks like it used to some old plantation mansion and there's this family cemetery out back…" I paused to gather my thoughts.

"Anyway, this morning I couldn't find Sam and all his stuff was still in the room so I go looking for him and find him in the graveyard and he's lying in the grass like he's asleep but he wouldn't wake up, well, he kind of tried to a couple of times but then he went quiet again," I explained and waited for Bobby's reaction.

"Hm," Bobby muttered as though thinking.

"I don't know what to do," I admitted.

"What's the name of the town yer at?" the old hunter asked.

"Ah," I racked my brain, trying to recall the name Sam had muttered as we passed into town, "Grantsville, yeah, that was it, Grantsville."

"Okay, I'll look up some stuff on the town and you just be sure to keep me posted on Sam's condition," Bobby answered.

"What do you think it is?" I asked.

"Well, considering the history of the hotel, I'd say it's a ghost," Bobby answered and I relaxed somewhat. At least I knew how to take care of angry spirits.

"Thanks a million, Bobby. I'll call you when I know what's going on with Sam," I said and closed my phone and leaned against the back of the chair.

I had called Bobby the day we had left Montgomery and told him that Jonah was dead- and that Sam had killed him. The old hunter was upset for Sam's sake but glad that there was one less man like Jonah Thompson in the world.

I looked around when I heard footsteps hurrying in my direction and was surprised to see Miranda making her way toward me.

I held back a groan and forced a smile, "you didn't have to come all the way out here."

"I feel responsible," Miranda said.

I perked up at that.

"Don't feel that way, you did nothing," I said.

Miranda smiled wanly, "thank you Mr. Scharin."

As casually as possible I asked her if anything like this had happened before at her hotel.

"No, of course not!" Miranda said quickly, too quickly for my liking.

I sighed. I wouldn't be getting any information from Miranda then.

"So, he's your brother?" Miranda asked tentatively.

I nodded, "yeah."

"Why did you both give me different names?" she asked.

Thinking up a quick lie I said, "We're half-brothers- same mother, different father."

"Oh," Miranda answered.

I guessed the lie worked- I didn't really see why it wouldn't anyway, even though Sam and I were brothers we didn't exactly look alike so on first glance you wouldn't really be able to tell we were related.

It was a bit awkward sitting there with Miranda, a woman I barely knew and maybe the bitch who had done something to Sam. I didn't start any conversations with her; I just stared at the hallway I had seen the doctor take my brother down, willing the physician to come into view with good news.

"You're married," Miranda pointed out, seeing the wedding band on my finger and sounding a touch disappointed.

"Yup," I said with finality that made it clear I didn't want to talk.

Two hours passed before Dr. Monroe came to see me.

I stood and met the doctor- his expression was unreadable.

"Is Sam going to be okay?" I asked.

"We're not sure, he's very weak and he was running a low-grade fever but he is awake right now," the doc said.

"Okay," I said slowly, "can he come home today?"

The doctor hesitated a moment, "if he remains stable I see no reason why not."

I let out a sigh of relief, "can I see him?"

"Yes, but only for a few minutes, I want him to rest," Dr. Monroe said and led me down the hallway in the direction they'd taken Sam earlier.

I didn't even spare a backwards glance at Miranda.

I peered into the room where Sam was. It was your generic hospital room- cheery colours and the smell of medicine, bleach and disinfectant.

My brother was sitting up in bed, hospital pajamas on and an IV line in his hand.

"Hey," I said quietly and stepped inside.

"Hi," Sam mumbled.

"Glad you're awake," I said and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What happened Dean?" Sam asked, sounding confused.

"You don't remember what happened last night?" I asked. I was hoping Sam could tell me himself why he had gone and taken a nap in a cemetery.

Sam shook his head, "I remember waking up because I heard a noise and that's it, that's all I can remember."

My expression remained the same, "that's okay Sammy. The doctor says you can probably get out of here today if you don't get any worse and then we'll leave, okay?"

Sam nodded. He did look tired and ill. The dark circles under his eyes were pronounced and he was pale, his bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat.

I looked up when I heard someone stop just inside the doorway and I saw it was Dr. Monroe.

I stood, told Sam I'd see him again a little later, and then left the room. The doc followed in case I had any more questions.

"When did he wake up?" I asked as we headed back to the waiting room.

"About an hour ago. We were doing a CT scan when he woke up and panicked," the doctor said apologetically.

I nodded. I think I'd freak out if I woke up inside one of those machines.

"I noticed that your brother shies away from physical contact," Dr. Monroe said, "does that have something to do with the Post-Traumatic Stress?"

"Yeah," I said and hoped the doc wouldn't ask for details.

"Was there any lasting damage from the coma?" Dr. Monroe asked.

I shook my head.

"You said it was a, uh, hunting accident that caused the Post-Traumatic Stress?" Dr. Monroe asked as though to confirm.

"Yeah," I said. I could tell that the guy didn't quite believe the story but he didn't say anything. Apparently Sam's dislike of being touched and panic attack upon waking up in the CT scan machine set off a totally different type of warning bells for the doc.

"You may stay in the waiting room or you can return later to see if your brother is up to leaving," Dr. Monroe said.

"I think I'll hang around doc," I said and made my way back to the waiting room with its uncomfortable green chairs.

I saw that Miranda was no longer there and I was glad- I didn't want to sit near her. Her concern for Sam might be genuine… but then again, she might just be one hell of an actress.

I sighed as I sat down and rubbed a hand over my face.

I guessed that I'd be in for a long day so I grabbed some car magazine and flipped through it.

After about ten minutes of leafing through the magazine, reading an article on some car show down in Virginia, I stood and made my way to the cafeteria. I hadn't eaten anything for breakfast and frankly I wasn't in the mood to eat, not when Sam was hospitalized and we might have a witch or something else to thank for it.

I grabbed a Styrofoam cup and poured some coffee into it from an old, battered machine. I wandered back to the waiting room and sat down again to wait until either Bobby called or the doc said I could take Sam home.

I sat there for maybe three more hours before my cell phone went off in my pocket. I fished it from my jeans and answered. I was surprised not to hear Bobby's voice though, but Lisa's.

"Hi," I said, genuinely surprised.

"How are things going?" Lisa asked a little tentatively.

"Swimmingly," I answered as cheerfully as possible.

"That's good," Lisa said, brightening up.

"I think I should be home by the end of this month," I said. Hopefully, I thought.

"That's great! You'll still have a month of summer to spend with the boys," Lisa said as though I was just on some extended business trip or something.

"Yeah," I said, slightly distracted as I watched Dr. Monroe walk down the hall and right past me.

I thought I had seen him glance suspiciously at me from the corner of his eye but maybe I was mistaken.

I returned my attention to Lisa.

"How's work?" I asked.

"Good, steady," Lisa said in a way that told me she didn't want to talk about work at all.

"What about the boys? How're they doing?" I asked to change the subject.

"S.J. misses you but Ben's helping him through it," Lisa said. This was the first time I had been away from my family for any great length of time since my son had been born.

"Listen, Lisa, after this I am never leaving, okay? You hear me? I will stay put in Cicero as soon as the Impala touches the driveway," I said, knowing I shouldn't be making such promises but not being able to bear my wife angry at me either.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Dean," Lisa said softly.

I couldn't help but sigh. This topic never got any easier to talk about.

"What are you doing now?" Lisa asked.

"Oh, just hanging out," I said and leaned back in the chair to watch as a bunch of nurses rushed past the waiting room and down the hall that led to my brother's room.

I watched blandly until I realized that the nurses were headed to Sam's room.

Shit, I thought.

"I'll call you later tonight Lis, something just came up," I said and closed my phone before she could reply.

I stood and dashed down the hall toward my brother.

I pushed into the room and looked over the tops of nurses' heads to try and get a peek at my brother. What was going on? I didn't hear any alarms screeching or anything.

"Sir, you have to leave," a nurse said and prodded me in the direction of the door.

"What's wrong with my brother?" I asked even as Dr. Monroe swept into the room.

"Doc, what's going on?" I asked but I was ignored.

A nurse shoved me out into the hall and closed the door. I stood stunned for a moment and looked up and down the hall as if looking for someone to help me.

I didn't return to the waiting room but leaned against the wall, passing time until someone came out of my brother's room to tell me what was going on.

I think I waited for twenty-five minutes before Dr. Monroe stepped outside calmly, closing the door behind him.

"What the hell's going on in there?" I demanded, "you've got all those nurses running into Sam's room like there's been a Code Blue called but I don't see anything out of the ordinary, nothing to tell me there's anything wrong."

Dr. Monroe looked at me with a judgmental expression.

"Your brother tried to leave without my permission," the doc said as if he took Sam's actions as a personal insult.

I waited for the doc to continue to talk about this outrage.

"He ripped out the IV line but one of the student nurses noticed while making her rounds and called for assistance," the doc said.

"That's because Sam doesn't like being in hospitals, doctor," I said, trying to keep the venom from my voice.

My hackles rose. I had noticed that the doc never called Sam by his name, it was always 'he' or 'him' or 'your brother'- I found that extremely rude… and unusual since all the other time Sam had been in the hospital the doctors made sure to call him by his name, especially in front of me, I guess so he seemed more like an actual person instead of just a number.

"It does not matter whether or not he likes being in the hospital, your brother is staying here until I clear him to leave," the doctor bristled at my remark.

"His name is Sam, doctor, Sam. He's a person, a husband and father and not just another serial number on a set of forms or a pat on your back for a job well done," I spat, "and I was trusting Sam's care to you but now I'm not so sure."

"I can have you removed from this hospital," the doctor threatened.

I waved a hand dismissively, "when you decide to discharge Sam, I'll be in the waiting room."

I went back and sat down, still angry at that doctor. He had seemed like an okay guy at first but then he had changed.

Nah, I thought, he was just an arrogant prick doctor.

And boy was I right about that. Doctor Monroe kept Sam until just past seven in the evening.

My brother didn't look all too happy as he limped down the hall toward the waiting room. He had changed back into his jogging pants and t-shirt and now his shoes- I had gone back to the hotel when it was obvious Sam wasn't getting out anytime soon and had brought him his sneakers and cane that he leaned heavily on.

I quickly filled out the remaining paperwork and happily got back into the Impala and drove back to the hotel.

Sam looked exhausted.

"You alright?" I asked.

Sam gave a one shoulder shrug.

"That asshole decided I needed about a hundred more tests after I tried to leave," he muttered.

"Well, that's what you get for trying to check yourself out Sammy," I answered jokingly although my heart wasn't in it.

Sam glared at me. I could just imagine how unpleasant that had been for my brother, especially due to his dislike of people, especially strangers, touching him.

I noticed that as well as bandage tape and a cotton ball stuck to his hand where the IV had been, his left elbow also had been bandaged like they'd taken numerous blood tests.

Unconsciously Sam's right hand went up and rubbed at his left forearm, just below the elbow.

"We'll get you a shower and then we can get something to eat," I said. I hadn't eaten all day, just drank some cups of the cafeteria coffee while I waited for Sam.

I parked in the hotel's lot and stepped out, my back protesting and I cursed those terrible hospital chairs.

Sam and I made our way up the flights of stairs to our room. Wesley had been at the front desk and he hadn't even acknowledged our presence when we had stepped inside- that was fine by me though, I just wanted to make sure my brother was okay. Miranda, for her part, was nowhere to be seen.

I unlocked the door to our room and we stepped inside. Sam paused to grab some clean clothes and I sat on my bed while he showered. Thinking about it I got up and checked the room for hex bags (just in case we were dealing with a witch). I pawed through our duffle bags and clothes, checked the bed sheets and pillows, the window ledges and the tops of the doorframes, because you know it's better to be safe than sorry.

Sam took a long time in the bathroom but I didn't complain- he had spent his entire day being poked and prodded by Dr. Monroe and a bunch of nurses and I thought that maybe a good, lengthy shower would do wonders for him.

When Sam had changed into a clean pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt we drove down the road a little until we found a small diner that was still open.

I ate my dinner- a cheeseburger and fries and vanilla milkshake- with relish, my empty stomach thanking me for filling it at last.

Sam only picked at his meal. I didn't really expect anything else but it still worried me.

"Are you sure you don't remember anything about last night?" I asked my brother quietly.

Sam shook his head, "I woke up 'cause I thought I heard a noise and that's it- I don't remember anything else."

I frowned, "well, Bobby's looking up some info on the mansion and maybe we'll get lucky."

Sam looked up, "you called Bobby?"

"Yeah, I mean, you were unconscious in a cemetery Sam, that's something that has supernatural SOB written all over it unless Wesley knocked you out for ogling his sister," I said.

Sam scowled but I saw a little bit of red creep across his cheeks, "I wasn't ogling, Dean, Miranda was talking to me. Besides, I'm married, remember?"

"I know," I said, defensively.

Sam must be really out of sorts if he can't tell I'm joking, I thought.

Sam sighed and looked at my plate to see if I was finished with my meal. I fished my wallet out of my pocket and paid for the meal, not waiting for the bill so I did the calculation in my head, giving the waitress a generous tip just because I felt like it.

Back in our hotel room I channel surfed restlessly, waiting for Bobby to call.

Unfortunately the old hunter still appeared to be searching so it only grew later and later until Sam said he was going to sleep and laid down on his bed with the covers pulled up to his chin. I turned off the TV and lights, made sure the door was locked and laid down in my own bed but I didn't sleep. I was waiting. Waiting to see if Sam would get up again like he had the night before.

I didn't have to wait long- the alarm clock read 11:11 when I heard my brother sit up. I sat up likewise but Sam didn't appear to notice. In the dim light I could see his head cocked to one side as though listening to something. He paused and then stood.

Sam walked to the door, unlocked it and stepped into the hall. I followed my brother at a distance after slipping my boots on over my bare feet. We walked down the stairs and into the parlour, passed right through the room and into the small mudroom and outside.

Sam appeared to be following a sound or call only he could hear.

I watched as Sam easily lifted his long legs over the cemetery's low fence and stroll purposefully past the graves until he reached the same angel statue I had found him sleeping under that morning. Sam sat down, leaned his back against the stone statue and closed his eyes.

I vaulted over the fence and dashed to where Sam was propped against the statue.

I got down on my knees beside my brother and called his name.

Sam's eyes fluttered for a moment.

"Sam, come on, wake up!" I shouted and shook his shoulder.

I breathed a sigh of relief when my brother's eyes opened and after looking around confusedly for a moment, his gaze rested on my face.

"Why am I out here Dean?" Sam asked, "How did I get out here?"

"You walked, man, it was like you were sleepwalking or something," I said and reached down to pull Sam up.

My brother stood and shuddered. I noticed his breath fogged out before him even though I couldn't see my own.

Needless to say, neither Sam nor I slept for the rest of the night.

It was about ten thirty the next morning when my phone vibrated in my pocket and the ringtone when off.

"Please say you have something?" I asked the old hunter.

Sam was sitting on his bed, looking like he was fighting to stay awake.

"Okay, well bear with me a moment because this is sort of a long history," Bobby said and I put him on speaker so Sam could hear as well.

"First off, the place you're stayin' at was built in the early eighteen hundreds- the first known mention of it goes back to eighteen-oh-seven, anyway, a fellow by the name of Otis Hobbs owns the place-" I interrupted Bobby for a second.

"Hobbs? I saw that name on the graves in the cemetery this morning!"

"Ayuh, you would. That's family's owned the place forever," Bobby muttered.

"Anyhow, in eighteen thirty-one, this Otis Hobbs had a cotton plantation and not only that, besides a half dozen sons he had one daughter, named Loretta," Bobby paused, "you've gotta bear with me since the rest of this is just speculation and stories…"

"Okay, we're listening," I answered.

"Loretta fell in love with a young slave named, ah, Clifford and they took to meetin' each other at night in the old family cemetery. Anyway, Otis got wind of his daughter's rendezvous and pretty soon got Clifford sold off to some other plantation owner in Kentucky. This is where it gets a little bit of imagination thrown in- before Clifford's shipped off, Loretta's pleading with her father to keep him and old Otis refuses and his daughter, I guess in one last attempt to stop her lover from bein' sent away, tells her father she's pregnant. Well, Otis almost has a fit and he does end up sending Clifford away- but the young man promises Loretta that he'll escape and come back for her and their child and they'll all go up North and go into Canada and be free and all but he never returns. With Clifford gone, Loretta gets sick, a broken heart, as the story goes and once it's clear to her that she's never gonna see her man again she goes up into the barn and hangs herself- killin' herself and the unborn child."

"Okay, so it is likely this is a ghost," I mused aloud.

"D'you think that Loretta's buried in that cemetery out back, Sam?" I asked my brother.

"Just wait 'til I finish the story before you go off diggin' up graves!" Bobby exclaimed, "Otis had Loretta cremated and she ain't in the family plot either since she kind of dishonored his name."

"Great," I muttered.

"Has this happened before Bobby? What happened to me, I mean?" Sam spoke up.

"Yeah, just after the Civil War, one of Otis's nephews was up visiting for a few days and he was found lying in the cemetery as if asleep but he was stone cold dead," Bobby sounded as if he was reading off a list.

"Any time after that?" I asked.

"Eighteen eighty-eight, nineteen-oh-three, nineteen-twelve, nineteen twenty, twenty-three, and nine. Then it stops for a while but there's other odd things that go on at that place: guests have reported they heard the sound of footsteps going down the hallway or coming up the stairs, they've heard a woman crying in one of the rooms, dishes have gone missing from the place and things will appear in places where they weren't left last. One woman even said she saw a woman in old fashioned dress sitting out in the garden in the back. Then the deaths start up again in the thirties and forties and then stop again and there isn't anything strange going on until today with your brother," Bobby finished.

"Wow," I breathed.

"So if this Loretta Hobbs is killing men, why?" I asked.

"Dunno," Bobby answered.

"Is there anything that connects the victims?" Sam spoke up.

"They were all married men with young children," Bobby answered, "and their wives were not at the hotel with them."

Sam looked shocked and slightly frightened at the idea.

Shit, I thought.

"Okay Bobby, thanks a lot. I think we can take it from here," I said and after our farewells I closed my phone.

"You up to talking to Miranda?" I asked Sam.

Sam shrugged and I took that as an affirmative answer.

We trudged down the stairs and I looked eagerly toward the reception desk- only to see Wesley again.

Sam glanced around the parlour for Miranda, hoping she was talking with other guests.

I sauntered over to the desk and leaned casually against it.

Wesley looked up, saw it was me, and then returned to typing something into the computer.

"So Jeeves, where is your lovely sister today? Out enjoying the gardens?" I asked.

"It is not any of your business where Miranda is," Wesley said, looking up briefly at Sam and then returning again to his work.

"I'd have thought Dr. Monroe would keep you longer," Wesley said as though in afterthought.

"Huh, you know that prick?" I asked.

"Yes, he's my cousin," Wesley said haughtily.

I wasn't really surprised, in a small town like this, everyone was probably related somehow.

Damn, I thought. I had been hoping that Miranda would be able to tell us if there were any of her ancestors old effects still kicking around and maybe there was something that had belonged to Loretta that had some of her DNA in or on it, a locket with some hair, a box with her milk teeth, something that Sam and I could burn and finally allow her soul to rest in peace.

"Thant's okay, we'll wait for her," I said, ignoring Wesley's comment about being kin with that douchebag doctor.

Sam and I moved over to the fireplace and we sat down. I took the entire couch, stretching out on it with my booted feet on the armrest. Sam sank into one of the chairs. I noticed he kind of shrunk into himself and huddled there, his arms almost wrapped around his middle, but not quite. He had beads of sweat on his brow and his eyes were slightly glassy- I could clearly see the haunted look in them.

Maybe it's the fever Monroe was talking about yesterday, I thought.

As it turned out we didn't have long to wait for Miranda. I looked up and saw her walking through the front doors of the hotel, this time she wore a pair of white Capri pants and a powder blue v-neck t-shirt. She had dark blue flip-flops on her feet. I guessed that it was 'casual day' for her today.

Miranda went over to greet her brother at the desk and Wesley pointed a pen at where Sam and I sat without looking in our direction.

The woman smiled as she walked over, "Mr. Scharin, Mr. Beckley, it's good to see you're out of the hospital."

Sam gave a noncommittal grunt and fidgeted in his seat.

"We were wondering, Miranda, if you had any old possessions of your ancestors, we know a little about the history of this place and are kind of interested in that sort of thing- call us amateur historians if you like," I said, making sure to give my most charming smile.

Miranda visibly stiffened.

"Everything's in storage in the attic," she said.

"That's fine," I said, "if you'll let us take a peek."

The woman looked from Sam to me. Sam made an attempt to sit up and set his hands on the chair arms so it didn't look so much like he was fighting back the urge to be sick.

"So not only are you funeral director half-brothers but you like sifting through the personal objects belonging to long dead people," Miranda said slowly.

"That's us," I continued to smile, trying to disarm her.

She hesitated a moment longer and then, "alright, follow me."

Sam and I were led up to the topmost floor of the mansion and stood back as Miranda pulled down the ladder that was attached to the door of the attic.

"Everything is in a few cardboard boxes, you can't miss them," the woman said as Sam and then I climbed up the ladder and into the attic.

Poking my head up so that I had my first view of the attic I noticed it was old, wooden and covered in cobwebs and insulation.

I also realized that it was also very hot and humid with no ventilation.

I pulled up the ladder-and-door after me, not wanting anyone to follow us or accidently run into the ladder sitting conveniently in the middle of the hallway.

"You realize we might not find anything at all of Loretta's, right?" Sam asked.

"I know, but it doesn't hurt to look either," I muttered and carefully walked across the creaky floorboards toward the small pile of cardboard boxes with 'JUNK' written on them in black Sharpie maker.

There were only seven boxes but it took us an hour to look through everything in them. There were old photographs, letters, jewelry, a couple of yellowed lace doilies, an old pistol that I was tempted to keep if it worked (you could never have enough guns when you were a hunter, ah, I mean ex-hunter… maybe Bobby knew someone who could use it…), one of the boxes was filled with moldering old dresses, a few ledgers that appeared to be written by Otis Hobbs himself and then later one of his sons… but nothing that could help us in getting rid of Loretta.

I wiped sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt and paused to close up the last of the cardboard boxes. Now Sam not only had his bangs plastered to his brow with sweat, he was quite flushed. My throat was parched and I was sure Sam was feeling as dehydrated as I was.

"Let's get out of here and have a beer," I said and opened the attic door, letting the ladder down until it made a soft thump as it hit the wooden hallway floor.

I made my way down first and then watched as my brother slowly made his own way down.

Maybe we should skip the beer; I thought when I noticed Sam's shoulders and hands tremble slightly.

We made it back to our room and I immediately cranked up the A/C. I grabbed a bottle of beer for me and handed Sam a bottle of water.

I thought he'd protest, say that he was fine, just a little overheated from being in the attic but he didn't. Sam just twisted the cap off the bottle and gulped down half its contents in one go.

He sat down heavily on his bed and his hand moved to his left leg, rubbing where the injury was.

I fished around in my duffle bag, found the bottle of Tylenol and handed it to my brother. I hoped that as well as relieving the pain in his leg, the medicine would break the fever he seemed to have.

Boy Sam, I thought, supernatural things are attracted to you like magnetism, aren't they?


	27. Comin' Home

Castiel hated all the bowing and scraping. He hated having to pretend he was Michael's loyal minion. He hated how the archangel was always watching him, keeping an eye on him, keeping him in line.

Castiel had better things to do than play the obedient servant. He needed to find some way to have Abdiel released from prison. The angel thought that maybe talking to Michael, as much as he disliked the idea, might work.

Castiel entered the board room to find Michael in deep discussion with Kafziel. Michael looked up when he saw Castiel waiting.

"Would you excuse us for a moment, Kafziel?" Michael said in a way that told the angel it was an order and not a request.

Kafziel vanished with the light fluttering of wings and the archangel turned to Castiel.

Michael smiled and walked over to Castiel, "what is it, Castiel?"

"Do you not think it is time Abdiel was released? Do you not think he has learned his lesson? I believe he will be a great asset to the cause if given a chance to redeem himself," Castiel said without hesitation and waited nervously for the archangel to respond.

Michael laughed, his light blue eyes shining.

"I think Abdiel has made it clear he does not want a second chance, Castiel. I know you two were close but you will have to forget about him," Michael waved a hand dismissively.

Castiel shifted from one foot to the other and cleared his throat.

"I know you do not want to hear this but Abdiel protects Sam Winchester, and if Raphael or Belial ever get their hands on the boy than this whole campaign is lost," Castiel continued and he saw Michael's expression darken at the mention of the human's name.

"I do not want to hear you speak of that maggot again in my presence, Castiel, and I have no intentions of loosing Abdiel upon impressionable angels who will be corrupted by his treachery," Michael practically snarled at the lower-ranking angel.

Castiel disappeared before the archangel could do anything else and hated himself for being so weak.

Castiel looked up at the warm sunlight shining down on the park he was in and he sighed.

He didn't know what to do- Abdiel was imprisoned for sedition and awaiting whatever punishment Michael thought appropriate.

The angel thought about what his friend had said just before being taken away.

'We need to find God. There is just no way any angel can fill His shoes,' Abdiel's words echoed in Castiel's head.

If only Castiel could find God than maybe his Father would be able to put an end to all this insanity. The problem was, Castiel could not even dream of locating God without the amulet, the same amulet Dean Winchester had thrown in the trash after he and his brother had returned from talking to Joshua.

Right now though, Castiel just wanted to focus on staying on Michael's good side and wait anxiously for his friend's punishment to be doled out. Perhaps he could talk to some of his siblings and see if they knew where God might be.

Already a number of names came to mind- angels who had been close to their Father in the past and might have an idea of where He could be now.

Castiel sighed and rubbed the side of his face with his hand- a gesture he had often seen Dean perform when he was stressed or nervous and to the angel's surprise, it seemed to help if only in a minuscule way to release some tension he was feeling.

SPN

"Damn it!" I swore as I paced around the hotel room. Sam sat on the end of his bed, looking up at me.

"How can there be nothing left of Loretta Hobbs? There's always something left over, always!" I continued and Sam shrugged.

"It was a long time ago Dean," Sam suggested, not helping a bit.

"And she was cremated, I know," I said in a testy voice.

Two days had passed since we had rummaged through the cardboard boxes in the attic and for the past two nights Sam had wandered outside to the family plot, inexplicably drawn by a call only he could hear. I had tried putting salt at all the windows and doors at night but the ghost, if it was a ghost, apparently didn't come inside the room anyway and my brother just walked over the salt line at the door as though it wasn't even there. It was also getting harder to wake my brother up when he closed his eyes in the cemetery, even if I was right beside him the entire time.

I was also confused as to why Loretta Hobbs hadn't as of yet shown herself, by now any spirit would be downright livid that I'd continuously woken up their victim. The fact that Loretta was staying away made me worried that we were not dealing with a ghost at all.

"Maybe we could go somewhere else and work the case away from that place," Sam said hopefully.

I paused. I knew Sam didn't want to stay here. Of course, he'd probably be content to put this mansion in our rearview mirror and go back to Petite but this ghost, or whatever it was, was focusing on him and even though I hated putting my brother in danger, he might be the only thing that could give us any sort of clue as to what was going on.

Sam saw the look on my face that told him we were not going anywhere and his shoulders slumped.

I knew I was being stubborn and I should have just driven past this place and made it to Birmingham… but… the truth was, and I hate to admit this, even to myself, the truth was that I sort of missed being a hunter. I missed saving people and getting to be the hero. All I did now was help build offices and houses and community centers and no one ever gave me a gold star for that. I wondered if Sam missed being a hunter as well, I mean, I did, and I would if I was cooped up in some musty old library six days out of the week.

I didn't say anything to my brother but dug around in his duffle bag and brought out his laptop and turned it on.

"What're you doing, Dean?" Sam asked and looked at me curiously.

"Bobby's a big help but I think we should really be doing some research of our own," I muttered.

"Give me my computer," Sam said and held out a hand expectantly.

"I got it," I said and Sam lowered his hand.

"Why don't you talk to Miranda or something? See if she's been cooking up some Hoodoo spells or sewing Hex bags?" Sam said bitterly.

I knew what Sam wanted- to do the research so at least he wouldn't feel useless but I just shrugged and said that I didn't think that Miranda was in today.

I glanced at my brother from the corner of my eye and saw his lips purse into a thin, white line. He reached down and rubbed his leg.

"Are you taking care of that?" I asked, meaning to sound casual but it came out more or less as an accusation.

"Yes," Sam said and moved his hand away from his leg.

"Good, cause we don't need you to get gangrene or something because you're being lazy," I muttered.

Sam glared at me and stood, supporting his weight with the cane.

"Where are you going?" I asked as Sam moved to the door.

"Out," he muttered and opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

"Have fun," I called after him and Sam slammed the door.

Nice Dean, I thought, piss Sam off. Way to go.

"Shouldn't have to handle him with kid gloves," I muttered aloud and typed 'Grantsville', 'Alabama', and 'Hobbs' into the search engine.

After some fiddling around and finding dead ends I came across a Hobbs Family Tree.

"Hm," I mumbled as I pulled it up.

It showed all the Hobbs family up to a Nicholas Hobbs, born 1921, and that's where it ended.

My gaze shifted to the earliest member of the family and I saw a Cotton Hobbs, born 1772, died 1809. He was married to some woman named Joan and they had three boys- Otis, Theodore and William.

I saw Loretta's name at the end of one of the tree's branches but all her six brothers families continued, Peter's being the longest reaching one which ended in Nicholas Hobbs.

I groaned, I wasn't a big fan of this genealogy stuff unless it helped out with a case, but this one didn't really so I closed the tab and did some more searching, hoping to find something on Loretta's ghost or something else that could be killing men in some weird cycle that neither Sam or I or Bobby could figure out yet.

I wasn't sure how long Sam had been gone until I noticed I was squinting at the computer screen, in need of some outside light source because the room had grown shadowy. I stood and stretched, my back protesting after being bent over for hours. I turned on the overhead light and one of the bedside lamps.

I dug my cell phone from my pocket and checked to see if anyone had called, although I knew no one had- I would have heard the ringtone and felt the vibrations.

I sighed and saw that it was just after six-thirty in the evening, approaching nighttime.

Maybe you've really got on Sam's nerves this time; I imagined Bobby's voice in my head saying.

Kid should learn not to take everything so seriously, then, I thought.

It's not like he's a child anymore and you know it, Bobby's voice said sagely.

"We both just needed some breathing space," I said aloud and closed Sam's laptop without shutting it down.

I looked up when I heard footsteps approaching the room and inwardly sighed with relief when Sam slipped inside.

I couldn't help but feel just a little bit sheepish before my brother, I mean, really, our job was done and all he wanted was to go home and be home with his family.

I noticed that Sam held something clutched in one hand and he had mud caked onto his sneakers.

"What've you got there?" I asked, trying to tell him by the tone of my voice that I wasn't angry.

"Hecate," Sam replied and opened his hand to reveal a twig.

I blinked, "Hecate?"

The name sounded familiar but I wasn't sure where I had heard it before.

The twig, or rather stem was an acid green colour, darkening to hunter green as it got closer to the flower. There were three large, white petals and the center of the flower was black.

"Where'd you find it?" I asked and took the flower from my brother to take a closer look at it.

"In the garden out back," Sam said, "along with some mugwort, meadowsweet, datura and dittany."

I frowned. All of those plants were used in witchcraft.

"So maybe Miranda is more than just a hospitable hotel manager," I said aloud and peered at the flower.

"She didn't see you, did she?" I asked quickly.

Sam shook his head, "like you said, she wasn't here today."

"So what does a heartbroken ghost, a flower and Miranda have to do with each other?" I asked.

Sam looked at me, "you tell me."

"Maybe Miranda planted the Hecate," I suggested.

"I don't know about that Dean," Sam said skeptically.

"Why not?" I asked, truly curious.

"Hecate is used in witchcraft to control the spirits of the dead, you know, in necromancy and stuff like that," Sam said.

"Yeah, so?" I said, waiting for Sam to continue.

"If the Hecate was there as long as Loretta's been killing then there is no way Miranda could have planted it," Sam concluded.

"Maybe she's just really, really young-looking for her age," I suggested.

Sam gave me a look that said he didn't really believe that.

"Okay, so maybe someone else planted the Hecate and it's been flourishing ever since… and Miranda doesn't really know what it is, just thinks it's a pretty flower or something," I relented.

"So now we just have to figure out who could have planted the Hecate," I answered, "and get rid of Loretta while we're at it."

"One of the slaves could have planted those flowers," Sam mused aloud, "they'd all be useful in spells and the owners would just admire them for their beauty."

"Don't think we'll get much info on the slaves who lived here," I said half-heartedly and opened Sam's laptop and pulled up the search engine.

I spent an hour navigating the internet, trying to find something, a census or a proof of purchase, anything that told us a little bit about the slaves Otis Hobbs had owned. Sam read over my shoulder and even though I found that irritating, I didn't say anything- besides, I was the one who took over his computer so I guess I deserved it.

I sighed in frustration and turned off the computer.

"Let's get something to eat," I said and stood.

Ten minutes later Sam and I sat in a booth in the only diner in town.

"D'you think we'd be able to get rid of Loretta if we dug up the Hecate and burned it?" I asked around a mouthful of burger.

Sam shrugged, "it's worth a shot I guess since we can't find any of her physical leftovers."

I grunted, "you sure have a way with words."

Sam ignored my comment and went back to his dinner.

SPN

We finished dinner and drove back to the hotel in silence. Well, I was silent. Dean was a regular chatterbox.

"You talk more than my two year old daughter," I muttered to my brother as he parked the Impala in the space closest to the back garden- we'd need the proximity when we went out to destroy the Hecate.

Speaking of Faith caused a brief pang of longing to flare up.

Once we've got this taken care of we're driving straight back to Bobby's, I told myself, and Montana after that.

I trudged slowly up the stairs after Dean. My leg was really sore and shook with every step.

Damn, I thought and almost missed a step, grabbing onto Dean's belt without thinking.

"Whoa!" My brother cried out and stopped moving, one hand on the wall and the other gripping the banister for support.

I regained my balance and let go of my brother, "sorry," I muttered, embarrassed.

"Maybe you should stay in the room," Dean suggested and continued up the stairs after glancing down at me quickly.

"No, I'm fine, really," I protested.

"It's kind of a one-man job isn't it?" Dean asked as we reached the hallway.

"You don't even know where it is," I said.

"You could always tell me, you know," Dean suggested.

We stood in front of our room now and my brother fished the key out of his pocket.

I could see by the expression on Dean's face that he really wanted me to stay in the room.

"The plant is right beside a bush of red tea roses," I finally said.

"I'm not even going to ask why you know what types of roses are out there," Dean said and I rolled my eyes.

Dean unlocked the door and we stepped into the room. The overhead light was on so we wouldn't walk into darkness- and my brother immediately gripped my shoulder and guided me to my bed.

I sat down and looked at my brother and then at the alarm clock- it read eight forty.

"Comfy?" Dean asked.

"Not really," I muttered and my hand went to my leg to rub at the bandaging. I needed to change it.

"Good," Dean smiled and turned toward the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked and stood, almost falling over because I had forgotten to use the cane.

"To burn that bitch to a crisp," Dean said.

"Please be careful Dean," I said.

Dean turned to grin at me before closing the door after himself and I was left alone.

I frowned. Dean shouldn't be doing this by himself. What if Loretta Hobbs appeared when she realized what he was doing? He'd have no one to watch his back.

I sighed and limped to the large hotel bathroom, grabbing my duffle bag along the way. I left the door open slightly and closed the toilet seat. I sat down heavily on it and rummaged around in my bag until I found the First Aid kit. I took out a roll of gauze, a tiny pair of scissors, medical tape and a tube of antiseptic cream.

Slowly I rolled up my pant leg and looked down at the white bandages that covered my leg from mid-thigh to just below my knee. I pulled off the tape and unwrapped the gauze, peering at the wound underneath. It was not very large, made a little bigger when the doctor had removed the bullet and was kind of shaped like a horseshoe. The stitches puckered the wound slightly and it was kind of red. I frowned- I hoped Dean wasn't right and I was getting an infection.

I meticulously, but gingerly rubbed the antiseptic cream onto the wound and put a clean piece of gauze over it, wrapping the entire thing in a fresh roll of bandaging.

Packing everything away I stood shakily, one hand against the wall to brace myself. I made it to the doorway of the bathroom and grabbed the handle of the cane that I had left leaning against the wall just outside the doorway.

I sighed and made my way over to my bed and sat down. I still had close to twelve weeks still of this hobbling around and using a cane like some old man.

And all because Dean hadn't reacted fast enough. No, because Jonah Thompson was insane and thought torturing me would get me to spill information I didn't have. Of course I didn't blame Dean for me getting shot, it was not his intention at all- that was obvious by the way he was pestering me about keeping the wound clean and trying to force pain pills on me like they were gumdrops or something. If anything, I only had myself to blame for the injury- I had tried one last attempt at talking to Jonah when I knew, knew he wouldn't want to see things our way, was not going to stop until I was dead… you think I'd have learned a thing or two after what Dean and I had been through with Gordon Walker.

Look on the bright side Sammy, I heard Dean's voice in my head, that bullet narrowly missed your knee and wouldn't that have been great if you'd ended up lame because Jonah decided to aim the gun a few centimeters lower? It's just twelve weeks of using a cane instead of possible reconstructive knee replacement surgery and tons of physiotherapy and trips to the hospital that I know you just love.

I ran a hand through my hair and then over my face.

Yeah, I know. Things could have been a lot worse. At least Dean had been there to back me up. I could just imagine how it would have turned out if I had gone to face Jonah by myself…

Pushing those slightly morbid thoughts from my mind I stood, found the TV remote on the dresser next to Dean's bed and turned on the television.

I idly flipped through the channels, not even watching the pictures flickering across the screen, my eyes letting nothing sink in but my ears eager for the familiar sounds of my brother's boots to come thumping down the hallway.

I am embarrassed to admit that I must have fallen asleep at one point because I was startled awake by the sound of the room door opening. Remote still clutched in my hand I pointed it at the intruder like a weapon- c'mon; I was still half-asleep.

I lowered my hand and breathed a sigh of relief when Dean poked his head in.

Stepping fully into the room I saw that my brother had grass stains on his jeans and his hands were covered in mud, twigs and leaves stuck in his hair but he had a big, goofy, triumphant grin on his face.

"Pack your stuff Sammy, it's onto Birmingham tomorrow!" Dean crowed and went to wash his hands in the bathroom sink.

"All the Hecate's gone?" I asked and tossed the remote onto Dean's bed, knowing he liked to have control of the channels.

"Dug it up by the roots, salted it and lit it up like the Fourth of July," Dean said and stepped back into the main room, wiping his hands on a towel.

My shoulders slumped as the tension that had been building melted away.

"You didn't see Loretta Hobbs?" I asked.

"There were loads of fireflies out there but I didn't see anyone human, living or dead," Dean smiled happily and clapped me on the shoulder.

Dean stretched then, and yawned loudly.

"What d'ya say we set the alarm for five a.m.?" he asked.

"Sure," I said and couldn't help but give a small smile, Dean knew I wanted to get back to my family quickly and even though he hated getting up early, was willing to do this for me.

My brother smiled back at me and peeled off his t-shirt and pulled off his boots. He flopped down on his bed and clicked the remote at the TV, turning if off. He sat up on his elbows, waiting until I had gotten into my own bed before turning off the overhead light.

I lay down with a sigh. Finally, finally we were heading back to Sioux Falls and then we'd go in opposite directions- me to Montana and Dean to Indiana. I was just excited at the prospect of calling Sarah to tell her she could come back home. Which reminded me, I hadn't phoned her in a few days, being too distracted by our fight with Jonah and then with the ghost of Loretta Hobbs, and surely now Sarah must be wondering if I'd disappeared or something. Although she hadn't called me either, which I found odd… oh well, she probably just didn't want to bother me, knowing (somewhat) why Dean and I had left in the first place.

I'll call her once we're on the road tomorrow morning; I thought and closed my eyes, drifting to sleep surprisingly quickly- a rare occurrence for me these days- thinking fondly about seeing my wife and children so soon.

SPN

I groaned and rolled over, punching the button on the alarm to stop the high-pitched beeping that bore into my sleeping mind.

I slid my eyes open and saw that it was still dark outside. I heard movement from across the room and picked my head up to see my brother stand up and limp into the bathroom, duffle bag over one shoulder, closing the door behind him.

As I waited for Sam to prim and preen I tried to wake up. I sat up and rubbed both hands over my face and yawned loudly, my jaw popping as I opened my mouth wide.

I stood up and stretched, groaning as my stiff muscles moved when they didn't want to.

Man, I really felt like I was getting old. I shouldn't though, I was only in my early thirties, but I guess all the abuse my body had taken over the years when I had hunted told a different story.

I shuffled over to the window and threw the curtains back with more gusto than was necessary. I peered down at the garden- still shrouded in darkness- and thought that I would show Sam my solo victory over our ghostly femme fatale. I guess I just wanted to let Sam know I still had a knack for killing beasties, one that hadn't been dulled by domestication. Maybe I was feeling a little bit smug, over proud of my accomplishment- of course I had done hunts solo before in the past, but taking one on now, after being inactive for almost four years just made me want to prove to both myself and my brother that we were not defenseless against these things, even if we were separated by three states.

Once Sam had gotten dressed- this morning he wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved green shirt- and I had brushed my teeth, took a shower, combed my hair, pulling on a pair of jeans and a brown t-shirt, etc. we packed our stuff quickly, eager to be on the road, this time the one that would lead us back to our families, and headed downstairs to check out.

Wesley was at the front desk this morning, looking bright eyed and bushy tailed despite the hour. He didn't give us as much as a 'good morning' and in return I only spoke when necessary to the guy. I paid for our room and Sam and I grabbed our respective luggage and headed out the front doors without a backwards glance.

We dumped our stuff into the Impala's trunk and before Sam got too anxious to get going I spoke up.

"Wanna show you something," I said quickly.

"What?" Sam asked, clearly trying to keep the exasperation from his voice.

"It'll just take a minute," I promised and walked toward the spacious back yard of the hotel.

"Dean, can we please just go?" Sam asked but followed after me.

"In a second," I answered and stopped some feet away from the red 'tea' roses Sam had mentioned the night before.

Sam stood beside me and peered at the rose bush, "yeah?"

"Look," I pointed, "told you I could do it."

My brother squinted and then frowned, "is this some kind of a joke, Dean?"

"What? No," I said, confused.

"I thought you said you got rid of the Hecate," Sam said in an angry voice.

"I did! I told you I destroyed it," I protested.

My brother gave me a look like he thought whatever trick I was playing on him was not funny in the least or I was very stupid and grabbed my arm.

"Than what's that?" Sam asked and gestured toward a completely untouched Hecate plant, nestled snuggly beside the roses.

I gaped in disbelief, "I don't understand. I burnt it last night."

The Hecate looked exactly as it had before I had torched it- light green stems darkening the closer they got to the flowers, pure white petals with black centers.

My brother looked at me and I saw that he believed me. His expression turned to one of fear- we hadn't gotten rid of the plant and that meant that we hadn't gotten rid of the ghost.

I felt around in the pocket of my jeans for my lighter- I had moved it over from the ones I had slept in when I had changed- and was slammed painfully onto the lawn by an invisible force.

"Dean-" I heard Sam cry out and I began struggling against the force holding me down.

"Sam!" I shouted, not caring at all if I woke up all of the people in the hotel.

I managed to push myself around so I could see my brother lying on his back in the grass only a few meters away from me.

Blades of grass poked at my cheek and I could feel cold earth beneath my face as the force pushed me harder against the ground.

My eyes grew wide when I saw the young woman standing over my brother. She wore a loose-fitting dress of light blue cotton that covered her from throat to wrist and ended just above her feet, clad in what appeared to be blue velvet slippers. A thin, white shawl covered her shoulders, her light brown hair cascading down her back to her waist.

I knew this could be none other than Loretta Hobbs.

Sam flailed in a vain attempt to get to his feet but the same force that held me appeared to be keeping him prisoner as well.

The ghost of Loretta Hobbs flickered in and out of view a couple of time but seemed to gain solidity and bore down on my brother.

"Sam!" I growled and quick as a flash the ghost turned her attention to me.

I gulped as I took in her light blue eyes, glaring with hatred and the bruises around her neck, just under her chin from when she had hung herself. I also saw that she appeared to be maybe four or five months pregnant.

Loretta hissed and I was lifted into the air and slammed back into the ground.

Okay, don't talk. Got it.

Dazed, I watched as she turned back to Sam who was struggling even harder now and calling my name.

You Were Going To Leave…

A furious voice said and I looked around for a second, confused because I was sure I hadn't actually heard it with my ears… it was more like the words had appeared in my head.

"No," Sam grunted and tried to back up from the ghost, his heels digging grooves into the grass.

You Were Going To Leave Me Alone… Just Like He Left Me Alone…

"Loretta…" Sam attempted.

You Are Like All Of Them! You Are All Like Him!

Loretta ducked down and stabbed ghostly fingers at my brother's chest.

Sam cried out in pain and I shouted his name.

She was going to kill him and I couldn't do anything about it.

"No…please…" Sam begged, gasping the words out.

He cried out again as the ghost dug her fingers in deeper. Now she moved her other hand and wrapped it around his neck.

"Sam! Sam! Sammy! Goddammit!" I shouted but Loretta's attention was focused solely on my brother.

Sam tried to speak but choked as his words were cut off. I could see his face turning red, his eyes wide and glassy.

"He didn't leave you, Loretta!" I bellowed with all my might and to my amazement the ghost paused and turned to me, releasing her hold on Sam.

What?

"He's right… Clifford… didn't leave you… not willingly at least…" Sam whispered.

Loretta looked at Sam, curious rather than angry though.

"Remember? Remember that day? Your father found out about you two… and he was going to sell Clifford to someone in Kentucky?" Sam said, voice growing more confident.

He Promised Me…

"Yeah, he did but maybe he couldn't get back to you and the baby. That doesn't mean he deserted you, Loretta," I spoke up, not shouting this time.

"I'm sure Clifford loved you and would have returned to you if he could have," I continued.

Loretta appeared to be considering our words.

I hoped that she wouldn't decide to attack again.

Clifford?

I felt the pressure holding me down dissipate but didn't dare move, not yet at least.

Loretta wrapped her arms protectively around her belly and stared at something or someone we could not see.

She turned to look at me and I saw she was smiling and had tears trickling down her face.

Without saying a word she walked forward a few paces and was suffused in a blinding white light and then disappeared.

As soon as she was gone I jumped up and ran to Sam.

"You okay, dude?" I asked reached down to help him up.

"Yeah," he said shakily.

I reached down and brushed bits of grass and dirt off his clothes as though he was a little boy.

"I guess this makes up for that whole Jonah thing?" I said and put one of Sam's arms around my shoulder. I was still nervous about him putting his full weight on his injured leg.

Sam just shook his head and rolled his eyes but I could tell his heart wasn't in it.

I grabbed his cane (it was exactly where we had been standing before Loretta appeared) and handed it to Sam. Glancing over at the Hecate, I saw that it was blackened and withered now that the ghost had crossed over.

"Thanks," he mumbled and I noticed his limp was more pronounced and I hoped he hadn't done any permanent damage to his leg.

"Let's get the hell outta here," I said and walked beside Sam as we headed toward the Impala.

SPN

Miranda Hobbs watched as the Winchesters made their way toward the parking lot. She couldn't help but curl her lip in disgust as she thought about when she had first met the boys only a few days ago. Dean had been cool and cocky, outgoing and extraverted, with the air of someone who always had to be in control. Sam on the other hand had been shy and had barely said 'boo' to anyone. Right away Miranda could see that he wasn't as strong as his brother. Sam, aside from the recent physical injury, was not completely undamaged. He was not truly whole, it was obvious to anyone he came into contact with- even the regular hotel patrons could sense that he was haunted.

Miranda had heard many tales about the good, great Sam Winchester and when she had finally met him she had to say she was disappointed.

He seemed to her not like some valiant knight of Arthurian legend, defender of the weak and protector of the innocent. No, he was more like a tragic hero in an old play; he was the one in need of sanctuary.

Miranda was shocked that this man, who seemed so… broken had been the one who had once been able to kill some of the most powerful demons just by lifting a finger.

Miranda turned around and saw Wesley come into the room.

"This was meant to be a test and you almost killed them instead," Wesley frowned and for just a second his eyes flashed black.

Miranda lowered her head, "I am sorry, Master, I did not know what was going to happen."

Wesley, the demon, ignored the witch's apology.

His master, Belial, was interested in Sam Winchester, just like all the other angels but for whatever reason, he was not willing to share his plans with his demon subordinates.

He sneered at the witch- she was insufferably stupid but she had had her uses. All he had to do now was report to Belial and perhaps he would get to find out what the fallen angel's interest in the youngest Winchester was.

Wesley breathed a sigh, "your services are no longer needed Miranda… goodbye," and with a flick of his wrist, without even touching the woman, he snapped her neck and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and strolled down the hall, whistling a tune as he went.

SPN

Dean made sure I was seated in the car before rummaging around in the trunk for something. I gritted my teeth and rubbed at my leg. I had twisted my knee when I had landed on the lawn after Loretta had thrown me and the pain had now intensified from its usual dull ache to a fierce burning.

I looked up when Dean sat down heavily and handed me an unopened bottle of water- a leftover from our stay in Lafayette.

"How're you feeling?" he asked after I had taken a sip of the beverage.

I put on a passive face, "better now that Loretta Hobbs is gone."

Dean nodded and pulled the keys from his pocket, put them in the ignition and turned on the engine.

The Impala roared to life and I took a deep breath. We were finally heading home.

We drove for a good few hours, my brother just getting as far away from Grantsville as possible, getting closer to Birmingham with every mile, though we were still quite a ways away.

My brother turned up the music and blasted Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Sweet Home Alabama' at a frequency I was sure would crack the windows if I hadn't heard it that loud before.

We got lunch at the Drive Thru window of a tiny Burger King and continued on our way- we wouldn't make it to Birmingham that day or even the next but we were at least on the home-stretch and I'm not sure but I think Dean was driving like this for my sake.

That's not to say that he didn't want to see his own family, he just decided that he had to get me home what with the lack of PTSD meds and now an injured leg, he seemed to think that he needed to drive me South Dakota will all speed.

"You gonnna be good to drive once we get to Bobby's?" Dean asked and turned down the music.

"Dunno, I shouldn't have that much trouble," I answered but I could see by the look my brother gave me that he'd drive me all the way to Montana as well if it meant I was safe from getting into an accident or something.

After a little while I phoned Sarah and smiled when I heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Sam!" She said in a happy, surprised sort of voice.

"We're heading home," I said.

"Thank goodness," Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry I didn't call…" I began but Sarah interrupted.

"Well, I didn't call either. I thought you might need the quiet, you know, to sort things out," Sarah said and I smiled.

"It's over, you can go back to Montana now," I said.

"Faith will be glad to hear that. She's missed you so much," Sarah said.

"I've missed you all too," I said with a lump in my throat. It had been about a month since I had seen my wife and children and after seeing them every day had become a habit, I felt a sharp pang of loneliness in my gut.

Of course I wasn't alone, Dean was with me but this was different.

"I'll take the next available flight out of International and when you come home I'll make you your favourite dinner," Sarah said, the last part about dinner was given a seductive tone as to what we'd be doing after we had eaten.

I smiled and promised to call her again the next day.

"Love you so much," I said before hanging up.

"You too," Sarah finished and I closed my phone.

I over at Dean and saw he was smiling.

"What?" I asked, wanting to know what had my brother grinning like an idiot.

Dean just shook his head and returned his gaze to the road.

Whatever, I thought; I probably don't want to know anyway.

Dean drove for a few more hours until I demanded that I take over for a while.

"I dunno Sam, with your leg-" he began but I cut him off.

"I don't drive with my knees, Dean!" I snapped.

"Besides, you could also do with some rest… and really, I don't mind," I said, softly this time and Dean relented.

He pulled over onto the shoulder and we switched places.

Dean leaned back against the seat and his hand reached for the radio.

"I'm driving, I get to pick what we listen to," I said smugly.

Dean gave me a mock glare and folded his arms across his chest, "just as long as it isn't Elton John or someone like that."

I found a station that was playing 'Strawberry Fields Forever' and I kept it there. I knew Dean wasn't a huge Beatles fan, they weren't quite in the same category as Metallica or Led Zeppelin but he didn't say anything.

I think he was tired anyway because he just pulled his coat over his chest and leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes.

"Hey, Sammy?" I was momentarily startled by the sound of my brother's voice. I had thought he was out cold- he hadn't spoken in a long while- and I had been concentrating on the pain in my leg. It seemed to be fading, or maybe it was my imagination- maybe keeping my weight off it helped dull the ache.

It was early evening now, the sun hung low and orange on the horizon. We were going through another small town- this one had an old movie theatre and a tiny supermarket- a change from the ones that so far only featured a half dozen houses and a convenience store.

I forced my mind to think about my family; really anything I could picture in my head- their voices, their smiles, etc. Anything that kept… other memories at bay.

"Yeah, Dean?" I said and glanced quickly at my brother.

"You wanna stop for the night?" he asked.

"Sure," I muttered and did a speedy U-turn and headed for the motel we had just passed.

I didn't really want to hang out in some motel, I wanted to keep driving, I wanted to see my wife and children as soon as possible.

We checked in and dumped our duffle bags in the room before heading out to grab something for dinner.

There was only one place to eat in the town, Cora's Family Restaurant, so Dean and I crossed the street and walked past four shops to get to it. The short walk made my leg scream in protest and I thought that maybe I really had done some serious damage to it. Luckily Dean didn't seem to notice how heavily I was resting on the cane, or how gingerly I was limping.

"What's this place even called? It's so small. I'm always amazed that you can have towns this small still," Dean muttered, just to make conversation, I think.

"Uh," I hesitated. There had been a tiny sign upon entering the town and usually I'm good about knowing the names of places we were staying at, but I had been seriously distracted and couldn't remember what this particular town was called.

We stepped into Cora's and the hostess showed us to a booth as Dean requested.

"Thank you… Maybelle," Dean smiled and read the hostess's nametag.

She blushed and smiled back, handed us menus and rushed back to her position near the front doors.

"Kinda young for you, isn't she? She's gotta be, what, twenty or twenty-one?" I asked playfully, so as not to let Dean that my leg was fucking killing me.

"Hey, a guy can still dream can't he?" Dean asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows and I rolled my eyes in response.

Our waitress was another young woman, though a few years older than the hostess with light red hair in very tight curls and sparkling green eyes.

"Hi there," she said in a high pitched voice with an Alabama accent.

"Can we get a couple of beers?" Dean asked, eyes glancing up at the nametag on her chest.

"Sure thing," she smiled broadly and walked away.

Dean made a point of watching her butt as she walks away.

"Uh, you do remember you're married, right?" I asked.

"I'm just joking," Dean said and grinned at me.

"Seriously, Sam, I can barely wait to see Lisa and the boys again," he continued, expression earnest now.

I opened my menu and saw a wide array of Southern style cuisine. As I read the words on the laminated pages, my left hand reached down and rubbed at my knee, my jaw clenched in pain.

"Hey, Sam? You okay?" Dean was looking at me from over the top of his menu.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just tired from all that driving," I said and moved my hand out from underneath the table.

Before Dean could question me further though, the waitress returned with our beers.

"Are y'all ready to order yet?" she asked.

"Give us a few more minutes," Dean said and the waitress walked over to check on some other diners.

I gulped down a mouthful of beer and purposefully averted my gaze from my brother.

Dean though, had turned his attention back to his menu.

When the waitress returned my brother ordered sausage and grits, collard greens and cornbread. I ordered Jambalaya, just for a change from my usual dinners lately of soup and/or sandwiches.

Dean and I ate in silence but I could tell from the happy munching noises across the table that my brother was enjoying his meal immensely.

After a night of fitful sleep for me (and a sound sleep for Dean) we headed out of the town at four a.m. sharp.

Dean drove this time, going well over the speed limit but not so much as to attract the unwanted attention of any cops.

I huddled in the passenger seat. I had thought that easing up on my leg would relieve the pain but I was out of luck in that department. While Dean had been at Cora's getting us breakfast I had rifled through his duffel bag and taken a couple of Tylenol 3 pills from the first aid kit there- medicine that as my brother would say was only to be used in extreme emergencies since the pills had codeine in them- I considered this an emergency though, seeing as my knee burned with pain every time I moved it in the slightest.

Get it checked out as soon as you get back to Petite, I told myself. I was sure it was nothing, I just had overdone it by walking around and putting more weight on my leg than was probably good for it right then.

It took us three days to get to Birmingham. Dean was pleased but, of course, we still were miles away from South Dakota and Montana and Indiana after that.

After Birmingham we made it to Huntsville in about four days because we didn't bother stopping for motels- Dean and I would just take turns driving, even during the middle of the night. We passed through Memphis, Tennessee and then entered Missouri and drove through Poplar Bluff, Rolla, Kansas City…

We drove through Nebraska on the state line bordering Iowa and put Lincoln, Omaha, and Sioux City in the Impala's rearview mirror.

"We're on the home stretch, Sammy," Dean said as I woke up in the passenger seat, my brother's coat draped over me- we had pulled onto the shoulder to catch a few hours of sleep.

"Great," I muttered and rubbed my eyes. This drive back had taken way too long. It was already almost the first week into August.

"You want me to drive awhile?" I asked and stretched and yawned.

"Nah, I got it from here," Dean said.

My brother glanced at me worriedly.

I know I haven't said much about the PTSD since my pills ran out back in that small, one-horse town in Alabama. It wasn't like it disappeared, it didn't, I had nightmares and…well, not really flashbacks but oftentimes an unpleasant memory would pop into my head and all I could do was wait until it passed.

It's just, with everything that happened with Jonah and then the ghost of Loretta Hobbs, the PTSD was set on the backburner for a while. I mean, I'm sure you know that the symptoms didn't just magically vanish because I was concerned with other things, if you did a little bit of research you'd know that PTSD can last for a long time, even years and although medications can stop the symptoms from surfacing, they can't erase them. Besides, I'm sure you've heard enough about what happens to me when the PTSD flares up- the depression, the intrusive memories, nightmares, zoning out, etc. and I think that to be kind of unnecessary to describe every single episode while on our journey, so I didn't really see any reason to mention it.

Dean didn't say anything about it, what would be the point? There was nothing we could do until I got back to Montana and got my next refill.

Dean may not have said a word but I could see him watching me like a hawk, his gaze sometimes akin to Abdiel's raptor stare.

I think my brother was waiting for me to have a flashback and freak out, which never happened, but since I had started taking the medication almost directly after my first nightmare upon arriving in Montana there wasn't really a chance to see if I still had all the symptoms still.

Anyway, I didn't argue with Dean but just burrowed deeper into the seat, pulling Dean's coat up to my chin and felt comforted by its familiar scent.

"Sam," I opened my eyes a crack and peered at Dean. He was grinning almost from ear to ear.

"Wha-" I muttered and realized that the car was stopped and not only stopped but the engine was turned off.

I looked around and saw we were surrounded by rusted-out, gutted cars stacked high around us.

"We made it," I said as though I had any doubts.

"Took me twenty-eight ours but I did it," Dean smiled.

"I…I slept the whole time?" I murmured and sat up straighter.

"Yeah, you were really out of it," Dean's smile faded a little and he reached out to touch my forehead.

"Hm," Dean said, mostly to himself.

I knew I didn't have a fever. I had probably slept so long because of all the Tylenol 3's I had been taking for my leg. Not that I was going to tell Dean that.

Without further ado Dean opened his door and stepped out, stretching his arms over his head. It was dark in the salvage yard, maybe a little after ten o'clock at night I guessed.

I stepped out and hissed in a breath when my leg wobbled and I grabbed the top of the door to keep from collapsing.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath and Dean turned to look at me.

"Sam, you 'kay?" he was around the car in seconds, his face a mask of concern.

"Yeah, my leg just fell asleep," I said and gave an embarrassed laugh.

Dean reached past me and grabbed the cane out of the car. He held it out to me and I took it with a mutter of thanks.

My brother shut the Impala's door after me, grabbed our duffel bags from the trunk and followed me through the maze of totaled cars.

Unsurprisingly, Rebel came running out, snarling and barking but as soon as he caught sight of us he waggled his butt and begged to be petted.

Bobby was standing on his front porch, waiting for us, looking the same as ever in his baseball cap, grubby blue jeans, steel-toed boots and a flannel shirt.

Dean bounded up the stairs and gave the old hunter an enthusiastic hug which Bobby returned.

I mounted the stairs with more difficulty, leading with my right foot and then brining my left one up to meet it.

Bobby's mouth thinned in worry as he watched me.

"I'll be fine," I assured him, "doctor said it'd take twelve weeks to heal."

Once I was on the porch with my brother and the old hunter, Bobby grabbed me in a strong bear-hug.

"You had me scared there for a while, boy," Bobby said and pulled back to look me in the face.

"Looks like you haven't slept a wink since leavin' here," he said and I gave a small smile.

"I've been getting enough rest," I said but Bobby just snorted like he didn't believe me.

The old hunter looked from me to Dean, "well, let's not stand out here all night gabbing, c'mon inside."

We entered the house after the hunter and I breathed a sigh of relief. Bobby's place had always seemed like a home to me, especially as a kid, when Dad dragged my brother and I to dingy motel after dingy motel all over the country, it was really 'Uncle' Bobby's salvage yard that had shown me what a real home was like. Even now I considered it to be a kind of second home and of course Faith loved coming this way to visit 'Grandpa Bobby' every now and again.

Dean dumped the duffels in the middle of the living room and the three of us piled into the kitchen.

Bobby scooped grounds into the coffee maker and turned it on.

"You boys are staying here tonight," he said and glared at us, "an' I mean it. No dining and dashing, ya hear me?"

Dean smiled, "wouldn't dream of it."

Once the coffee was ready Bobby poured the brew into three mugs and handed two of them out.

I leaned against the counter, trying to look casual when I was really using the construction of wood and metal and laminate to hold myself up. My left knee trembled and seared with pain.

Bobby set his coffee down and started to prepare Dean and I a late supper. I sat down at the kitchen table with the excuse of not wanting to get in the old hunter's way.

Bobby made a quick pan-fried steak and eggs dinner and we ate silently and gratefully. After eating we put the dishes in the washer and only then realized that it was a quarter past midnight and Dean and I still had a lot of driving to do in the morning.

We bade the old hunter a good night- he said one of us could take the guest bedroom if we wanted but we refused. The upstairs seemed like it was private and even though, once in a while Dean or I would venture into that area of the house that belonged solely to Bobby, we felt uncomfortable, like we were invading his personal space- so we refused and set up camp in the living room like usual.

I lay down on the couch, legs propped up on the armrests and Dean took one of Bobby's wingback chairs.

"G'night Sammy," Dean whispered to me in the dark room.

"'Night, Dean," I whispered back and soon I could hear my brother softly snoring.

I smiled. Tomorrow I would see my family. I felt my heartbeat speed up with anticipation.

I closed my eyes and to my surprise I actually fell asleep within seconds, comforted I think, by the fact that my brother and Bobby were nearby and that in a few hours I would be back home with my wife and children again.

SPN

I think Sam woke at the crack of dawn the day after we got to Bobby's… no, wait, I know he got up at that ungodly hour because I was woken by a crash and a string of profanities the likes of which I rarely heard coming out of my brother.

I was up and glancing around for Sam in seconds. I saw him pulling himself up ungracefully just inside the kitchen door.

I rushed over and helped him up. He had a death-grip on my bicep with one hand and the other clutching the doorframe for support.

Bobby came down the stairs wearing, comically if not for the situation, a pair of blue and white striped pajamas and a ratty, navy blue housecoat.

"What happened?" I asked Sam and steered him slowly over to the couch and got him to sit down.

"Nothing, just my leg," he muttered in a way that told me didn't want to talk about it.

"You have to take it easy Sam," I said, not really angry at all, just worried.

Sam sighed and looked at me, "I know, but, I think I screwed my leg up pretty good."

I shook my head, "nah, it'll be fine."

It was Sam's turn to shake his head, "not now. Back in Grantsville with the ghost. When she threw me I think I twisted my knee."

"Why didn't you say anything when we were still in Grantsville?" I asked, hackles rising.

"I thought I just sprained it Dean, and what does it matter now? We're almost home, I'll get a doctor to look at it," Sam said.

I gritted my teeth. He just couldn't stop could he? I thought things had been going so well, that he'd learned his lesson after I'd exploded when I found out about the post-traumatic stress disorder meds and wouldn't keep things from me anymore but, hey, why would I ever think that?

"It matters because you could have done some serious damage by walking on your doubly injured knee for an extra week!" I snapped.

Sam looked at me defiantly.

"Dean, I didn't know," he growled.

"Bull-fucking-shit!" I shouted.

Sam opened his mouth to speak but I raised a hand, "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear whatever excuse you've thought up to try and put me at ease because it's not going to work this time."

I stood, stalked over to my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder.

"See you later Bobby, thanks for dinner. I'll give you a call when I get to Cicero," I said and without even looking at my brother, walked out and slammed the door.

I can just imagine the stunned faces of Sam and the old hunter as I turned on the Impala's engine and backed out of the salvage yard.

Hands white-knuckle tight around the steering wheel I couldn't stop thinking about Sam. I was still livid that he'd, once again, decided not to tell me something really important.

You should give him the benefit of the doubt Dean, Bobby's voice said in my head.

Why the hell should I do that? I thought back angrily.

Sam probably didn't want you to worry, you know what he's like, Bobby continued.

Goddamit Bobby! He could be seriously hurt. What if he did permanent damage?

If you were in his situation, would you tell him?

I deflated. Bobby, or my own imagined version of Bobby, had a point- there had been plenty of times over the years that I had gotten injured and had said nothing to Sam- what a hypocrite I am.

I resolved to call Sam and apologize for my outburst when I got to Cicero- that would give me time to cool down somewhat before talking to him.

"Jeez, Sammy, what am I gonna do with you?" I asked out loud.

It took me another thirty-six hours to drive to Indiana and once there I felt a whole lot better. No more crazy hunters to worry about, just me and Lisa and the boys.

I made a bee-line for Cicero and smiled when I pulled the Impala into the driveway of the house I shared with Lisa.

I decided that I could grab my stuff later; I wanted to greet my family first.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Lis? It's me…I'm home!" I called, in case she was in the basement.

Lisa instead came from the living room. She wore dark grey yoga pants and a pink tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore an odd little half-smile half-frown on her face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my heart pounding. Oh God did something happen to one of the boys?

"We need to talk, Dean," Lisa said and it sounded like she was trying to hold down her emotions.

I noticed that she hadn't come running into my arms and that made me uneasy.

"Whatever's wrong we can sort it out," I said and stepped forward, wrapping my arms around her and kissing cheek.

"I don't think so, not this time," Lisa said and extracted herself from my embrace.

Confused, I waited for Lisa to speak, to tell me what was the matter so we could fix it and then laugh about it later.


	28. Mad World

Bobby and I stared at the front door for about ten seconds and then the old hunter shook his head and I just looked at him sheepishly.

"Sorry you had to see that," I apologized. Obviously it hadn't been the first time Bobby had seen Dean and I fight but well, we were both grown men, adults and we should have been able to resolve any problem without it turning into a shouting match.

"Huh, looks like your brother's taking a leaf out of your book, Sam," Bobby said and I knew he meant the way Dean had taken off. That was something I would often do, especially when I was younger, after one of the many arguments with my father.

I sighed, realizing I should have told Dean about my leg. Even if it was nothing, he would want to know.

"Can I get you some coffee or breakfast?" Bobby asked.

I shook my head, "thanks but I should really be going."

Bobby nodded but I think he was sad to see us go so quickly.

"You can do me a favour though," I said and looked at the old hunter a little shyly.

A half an hour later I was sitting in the cab of my pickup truck, complete with correct license plates and a quick once-over to make sure there was air in all the tires and that the oil didn't need to be changed and it had enough gas in the tank, etc.

Bobby had done all the grunt work. I would have done it myself but I couldn't exactly hunker down that easily and unscrew and replace the plates, and anyway the old hunter just waved away my attempts to assist.

Now the old hunter stared up at me and he looked morose.

"I'll bring Sarah and the kids over for a visit really soon Bobby," I promised.

"You'd better, I haven't seen the grandkids in ages," he said and looked at me with a critical eye.

"I've been startin' to think I wouldn't see 'em until they'd graduated college, the number of times you come up this way," Bobby said jokingly.

I chuckled and started the engine. The old hunter gave a wave and stepped back.

Slowly I pulled out of the salvage yard and headed west, toward Montana.

Twenty-eight hours of almost non-stop driving and I saw the old, low buildings that made up Petite.

It was early morning so the stores and shops were closed, the streets deserted. I drove straight through the town to where the farms and prairie started.

I drove down the dirt road that would take me home. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the familiar oak tree in the distance, the only one for miles

I pulled into the long driveway and shut off the engine. I opened the door, sat still for a moment and took a deep breath- the scents of grasses, cattle and sun-warmed earth came flooding in. I know I'm being a little bit sentimental, having a chick-flick moment as Dean would say, but I guess it came from a life of continual travel, of never staying in one place for too long and now that I actually had a real home I couldn't help but be a tiny bit nostalgic.

I grabbed my duffel bag from the passenger seat, slipped out of the truck and closed the door quietly.

Limping heavily, leaning on the cane I took the porch steps much the same way I had tackled Bobby's. I set the duffel bag down and fished my house key from the pocket of my jeans. I opened the door in one smooth movement, bent down and retrieved the bag and stepped over the threshold.

I leaned against the wall and slid my sneakers off, depositing the duffel to one side and looked around. Nothing had changed… and really, why would it? Sarah had been in New York for most of the time, but I still expected something to be different.

I moved into the kitchen and as though I had been there the entire time, put water and grounds in the coffee maker and turned it on.

I sat down at the kitchen table and listened to the machine percolate as the smell of fresh coffee filled the small room. I looked at the clock on the stove and saw it was almost seven thirty.

Almost as though by a silent alarm I heard Aaron start to cry in his nursery upstairs.

Not wanting to startle Sarah by appearing in my son's bedroom, I remained seated and heard the sounds of my wife walking down the hall to sooth Aaron.

After a few minutes, seven to be exact since I was keeping an eye on the clock, I heard my wife coming down the stairs.

"Let's get you something to eat, baby," Sarah crooned to our son and she stepped into the kitchen.

Sarah looked up, for a split second looked confused and then a wide, happy grin spread over her features.

"Sam!" she said and stepped forward.

I stood and received her one-armed hug- she had Aaron resting on her other arm.

"When did you get here?" she asked and kissed me.

"Few minutes ago," I answered when Sarah turned to put Aaron in his high-chair.

Sarah hugged me again, more fiercely now, "I've been so worried about you," she muttered into my shoulder.

It seemed only now she realized that the cane was leaning against the table.

"It's my leg, it'll take a while to heal but it's nothing serious," I answered her unasked question.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Sarah asked and I shook my head.

"Take a shower, I'll hang out with Aaron," I assured her.

Sarah smiled, gave my shoulder a squeeze and went back upstairs.

I sat for a moment and then turned to my son, "so, what have you been up to?"

Aaron paused for a moment and then giggled, bouncing up and down in his seat.

He had grown bigger since the last time I had seen him but he still was chubby, his cheeks still had a healthy glow and his dark brown eyes sparkled with joy.

"Dadadadada," Aaron gurgled, looking up at me with a big, toothy grin.

I laughed and set about getting some cereal ready for him.

When Sarah came back downstairs she had Faith trailing after her, our daughter's expression one of the not yet fully awake.

"Mommy, when's Daddy…home?" I heard Faith ask from the stairs.

"Soon babe," Sarah said and they entered the kitchen.

"DADDY!" Faith cried out and ran to me with open arms.

I had taken a seat beside Aaron and was feeding him so I set down the small, rubber-coated spoon and lifted my daughter onto my lap.

Faith wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me as though she hadn't seen me in years.

I lifted Faith and set her back onto the floor. She was wearing a light pink dress and magenta pants on underneath, white socks and her curly, dark brown hair in a ponytail held up by a purple scunchy. Her dark blue eyes were wide and happy.

"Miss'd you Daddy," she said and wrapped her arms around my right leg.

"Missed you too, Sweetheart," I said and stroked her hair for a minute.

For such a special occasion, Sarah made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast much to Faith's delight and my wife and daughter chatted to me while we ate.

I didn't say much of anything concerning my month-long, cross-state trip to face Jonah Thompson- in my opinion Sarah didn't need to know about it, it was over and done with and my family was safe.

The rest of the day was easygoing, Sarah and I played with Faith and Aaron, I read to both of our children from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World.

I spent a few minutes calling up a doctor's office in Butte and making an appointment to see the General Practitioner about my knee and planned to drive down to that same city the very next day and pick up my prescription.

Later in the day, while Sarah prepared my promised 'favourite' dinner of roast chicken, baked potatoes and broccoli and cherry cheese cake (a 'girly' desert, Dean would call it, 'cause, you know, pie is so manly) I asked her about her stay with Tanya.

"It was good to see her again," Sarah said as she chopped the broccoli into chunks so she could steam them.

I nodded, "… and Upton?"

Sarah gave a guarded smile.

"He was his usual self," She said.

"His usual self when he was around you or around me?" I asked.

"Percy and Tanya are really close now," Sarah said, trying to ease my obvious anxiety over the little snot's apparent puppy-love for my wife.

"That's good," I said.

Sarah's expression softened, "he only came over for a couple of days."

I nodded.

Sarah set the knife she'd been holding on the cutting board and came over to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

"Sam," she whispered in my ear, "you know I only have eyes for you."

I relaxed in her embrace, "I know."

I felt Sarah smile and she kissed my temple. She moved back to the counter and picked up the knife again, continued chopping the vegetables for dinner.

SPN

"Let's go into the living room," Lisa suggested and I followed her, sitting on the couch. She stood.

I stared up at my wife with trepidation and waited for her to speak first.

"Dean, I don't really know how to say this… so I'm just going to go ahead: I don't think this is working out… I want a divorce," Lisa said and my mouth dropped open in shock.

"What?" I asked, thinking somehow I had heard her wrong.

"I. Want. A. Divorce," Lisa repeated.

"No, no, we can work this out," I said.

Lisa shook her head sadly, "I can't do this anymore Dean."

"Lis, I'm not going to go anywhere anymore. This was it," I tried to reassure her.

"I-I just don't know Dean," Lisa said.

"You and the boys were in danger… I was trying to protect you and the boys," I countered.

"Where are Ben and S.J. anyway?" I asked, realizing that they were not here.

"At the park," Lisa said in a distracted voice.

"C'mon Lisa, we can sort this thing out, we can always fix it," I said.

"I can't do this anymore Dean. I can't live like this: waiting for you to get a phone call and leave in the middle of the night. I can't worry about you all the time, if you're gonna run off for weeks on end and not call me," Lisa explained.

"Please Lisa," I said and stood, moved toward her.

"No Dean," Lisa shook her head, "I'm sorry but not this time."

"Lisa… I love you," I tried and gave her my best impression of puppy eyes I could.

"You love your brother more," Lisa said and I caught a hint of anger in her voice, "and I was a fool to think I could ever compete with that."

Lisa looked up at the ceiling and raised her hands in dismay.

I didn't know what to say.

This was one of the rare times in my life that I was at a loss for words.

I stood abruptly, walked past Lisa and into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and greedily drank half its contents in one go.

Welcome Home Dean, I thought and finished the beer.

I turned when I heard the front door slam open and the sound of two pairs of pounding footsteps resounded through the hallway.

"Dean! Dean!" Ben's voice called.

"Dad!" I heard S.J. shout right after his brother.

The boys rushed into the kitchen. S.J. took a run at me and I picked him up.

"Hey buddy," I said and smiled. His short, light brown hair was warm from the sun and his hazel eyes danced with joy.

I set S.J. down and looked at Ben.

"Hi Dean," he smiled and gave me a quick, awkward hug.

Lisa came and stood in the doorway, arms wrapped loosely around her middle.

"Boys, there's something Dean and I want to talk to you about," their mother said and Ben glanced at me, frowning now.

"What?" Ben asked, his voice suspicious.

Once again we went into the living room but this time it was Ben and S.J.'s turn to sit on the couch. Lisa and I stood.

"First we want you to know that we both love you and-" Lisa began but Ben interrupted her.

"No way! No freakin' way!" he exclaimed and his younger brother looked at him, a scared expression on his small face.

"Benjamin!" Lisa said, "I don't want to hear that language from you again."

The boy glared at his mother and me, "I know what this is… You two are getting a divorce."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we feel any differently about each other," Lisa said.

"Save it for the attorney," Ben said vehemently.

"Ben, don't talk to your mother like that!" I demanded, "Go to your room."

"Fine," Ben grumbled, "don't wanna hang around you two anyway."

S.J. looked up at Lisa and me once his brother had left and we explained to him that we would not be living together anymore, etc. the usual way you explain a divorce to a young child.

That night I slept on the couch, the first time since coming to live with Lisa actually and tried to come up with some way not to get a divorce.

Maybe marriage counseling would get Lisa and me talking and perhaps sort some stuff out. I didn't really want to throw the towel in just yet. If there was some way, any way to keep this relationship going I would try it. I really didn't want to think leaving Lisa and S.J. and Ben- they were my family and it didn't seem right for me to pack up all my stuff in cardboard boxes and move out of their lives.

Lisa was the love of my life; she was the one who was there for me after Sam had gone to Hell and I had grown deeply attached to Ben over that eighteenth month period. At first I had thought I was just fulfilling a promise I had made to my brother. Sure, I liked Lisa well enough, but I didn't really get it, not for the first few months anyway. I was still grieving badly for Sam and Lisa had comforted me and tried to include me in her and her son's lives, trying to pry me from my shell. As I have said before, my thoughts revolved around my brother. Lisa didn't seem to mind, even though she had never lost a loved one, she had seemed to sense my need to keep my brother's memory alive and didn't take offense when all I could think about was Sam.

When it became clear that Sam was not coming back, after Bobby and I had exhausted all attempts at researching a way to get him out of Lucifer's Cage, did I start to realize that my brother knew more about what he'd made me promise than I gave him credit for.

At first, when Sam made me swear that'd I go back to Lisa's and stay with her I wasn't quite sure what he'd been thinking. Sam knew me, knew my tendencies to go from girl to girl (or woman to woman) and that I was happy to do so, no need to create strong ties with anyone that would only end up broken. Maybe he thought that somehow, since he hadn't got the chance for a real, normal life he would live vicariously through me, if even for a moment. Maybe he was scared for me, scared of what I might do when he was gone… I'm not the Emo type but, hey, you all remember what happened after Jake stabbed Sam in the back (literally). Yeah, so I guess I could understand if Sam felt that way.

Anyhow, after a few difficult months I began to realize that somehow Sam had seemed to know that Lisa meant more to me than any other girl (woman) before her, yes maybe even more than Cassie Robinson. I don't know how he knew, sometimes he could be really intuitive like that (maybe it was a vestige of the psychic powers he had had) or maybe I was just bad a hiding the feelings I had for beautiful women in front of my brother. Whatever it was, Sam knew what he was doing and although I was grateful beyond belief for that, I felt a pang of sorrow that it took Sam's 'suicide' for him to finally tell me what I needed to do, what I should have done a long time ago.

Lisa and her son Ben had finally pulled me out of my shell enough for me to actually start really enjoying my time with them. Sam had known what was coming and had known I would need someone by my side to lean on. Bobby, although I loved him like a father, wouldn't do because he was in the know and I guess Sam thought (or knew) I needed someone who was somewhat out of the loop on such things as Lucifer and the Apocalypse. I knew I would never forget my brother but Lisa and Ben, their presence reminded me that there were things out there other than ghosts and demons and ghouls, that there were good things and that I could be a part of those things as well.

As the months had passed my love for Lisa and Ben had grown and after a while we had started to seem like a real family.

So as I laid out on the couch in the living room, only hours after hearing Lisa tell me she wanted a divorce, my thoughts were consumed by my promise to Sam and the year and a half I had spent with the woman who would one day become my wife.

I sighed and rolled over so that I faced the back of the couch. I wasn't going to let this go so easily. I would try to make Lisa see reason, I would demand we see a counselor or something, but I just wasn't going to give up just because my wife said she was worried I'd take off in the middle of the night with my brother to God Knows Where and fight monsters- I was finished with hunting forever. This had been the last time, the Greek god and the plantation ghost had really been flukes, our real target being Jonah Thompson but this was it.

This was over, I told myself, there were tons of other hunters out there who could just as easily take on any monster from here to Tibet and back again and I wasn't one of them.

I was retired. RETIRED, GOD DAMN IT! And it was going to stay that way.

Lisa didn't need to be afraid that one day she'd get a call from the police saying they'd found my body. No coroner was going to see that my heart had been ripped out or I'd been sucked dry of blood or I had died in some other supernatural way. With my luck I would pass the average age of a hunter right on by and leave it in the dust, I would be around to see Ben and S.J. get married and I'd get to see my grandkids.

I didn't think Lisa really wanted a divorce anyway. She was just scared and thinking irrationally. All I had to do was convince her that her fears were unwarranted. Yes, I thought, I would show her that I wasn't going anywhere, that I was here to stay.

SPN

The next morning I woke early, around five a.m. and pulled on a clean pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, performing my daily routine as though I had never stopped.

I padded down the stairs, pausing at the bottom and breathing in the familiar scents of the house: laundry detergent, lemon furniture polish, cinnamon, and fresh hay- the last coming in on the breeze flowing through the open windows.

I moved into the kitchen and put grounds in the maker and filled it with water. I sat down at the table to wait for the coffee.

Ten minutes later I had one hand wrapped around the handle of a travel mug brimming with steaming coffee, the other hand gripping the cane as I made my way across the front yard to the barn, my rubber booted feet picking out the most unobstructed path- I was still a little uneasy about having collapsed at Bobby's and didn't feel the need to take a face-plant on the lawn with a mugful of hot coffee in my grasp.

I tucked the travel mug into the crook of my left arm and pulled the barn doors open with my free hand. I was greeted by happy whinnies and snorts and the stomping of hoofed feet.

I smiled.

Sarah had said Ernie Meyers' sons would keep looking after the horses until my leg was healed and the boys had in fact come over to put the horses in for the night but this morning I just wanted to do something. I didn't want to sit around until the rest of my family had woken up and let someone else take care of my animals when I wasn't exactly an invalid, I mean, I could still get around, it would take me a little longer to muck out the stalls and such, but I could do it. I wanted to do it.

Setting the travel mug on an upturned egg crate, I opened the horses' stalls and one by one, Duncan, Ginger and Marlow stepped out and into the barn.

Each horse paused and snuffled at me, pressing their velvet-soft noses into my hand in hopes of a treat. Their large eyes shone with recognition as they stomped past me.

I followed the animals out to the yard and held the paddock's gate open for them to file into. It was a light grey outside, just enough to see by and I watched as the horses dispersed into the field, going their separate ways to crop at the grass.

I turned and limped back into the barn.

It did take a lot longer to clean out the soiled straw from the stalls. I had tried to do it single-handed at first, one hand on the cane the other gripping the handle of the snow shovel I used to scoop the manure but soon found out I couldn't really get a proper or comfortable hold on the shovel and I decided to ditch the cane, leaning it against the wall of the stall, spread my feet out wide to get a better balance and that helped. Sort of.

My left knee was a trembling, aching mass of pain by the time I had cleared out all three stalls. I could feel sweat dripping down my back and it matted my hair to my forehead. My shirt was damp around the collar and under the arms.

Maybe I should wait until my leg doesn't feel like it's gonna give out on me, I thought and wiped an arm across my brow.

I was almost finished though; the hard part was almost over. Now I needed to get clean straw from the loft and into the stalls, bring out fresh oats and water.

I peered up at the square hole that led to the loft where the straw was kept. I looked at the wooden ladder that led up to it. I felt my knee twinge as though in protest.

I reached over and grabbed the cane and hung it on one of the lower rungs of the ladder. I took a deep breath, told myself that this was nothing and climbed up the ladder like I had done so a hundred times because, well, I had.

Standing in the loft the scent of hay was overpowering but not unpleasantly so. It was a sweet, grassy smell and I breathed in deeply. I grabbed the pitchfork that hung on a nail on the wall and stalked toward one of the rectangular yellow bundles of dried straw.

I tossed down two squares and paused to put the fork back and sit for a moment. Both my legs trembled dangerously now, my right leg unused to taking most of my weight on its own.

I don't know what triggered it. Could have been anything. Could have been the fact that I was feeling unusually exhausted, that I was in pain, maybe both. All I know is the one minute I was sitting on a bale of straw in the loft of my barn in rural Montana and the next I was back in Lucifer's Cage…

… I tried to catch a breath but the air simply froze in my lungs. I gasped; the sound of my panting filled my ears. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, beating heavily and quickly, like a jackhammer.

My eyes were clenched tight shut. It wouldn't matter if I opened them anyway; all I'd see was darkness. I could already feel unshed tears threatening to overflow.

Adrenaline rushed through my body and I was on the verge of panic.

No, no, no, I thought, wishing I could just wake up from this nightmare.

I felt terror creep up my spine and my breathing became even more fast-paced and I was sure that I would have had a heart attack if it had been possible.

I whimpered in fear and then stopped, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Not that it would matter- I could be as silent as a church mouse and still I would be noticed, how could I not be? I was alone with two seriously pissed off archangels, the one though, thankfully had yet to make an appearance and I could at least take some solace in that, I just hoped that Adam was alright. I couldn't help but feel like it was my fault that he was down here with me. Poor kid didn't deserve this. Our half-brother who'd been unaware of monsters for most of his young life had ended up getting eaten by a couple of ghouls only to be resurrected by some douchebag angels and manipulated into saying 'yes' to Michael and had finally ended up in Lucifer's Cage because the archangel couldn't take 'no' for an answer and had tried to pull me back, succeeding only in falling with me.

I wasn't sure though, anyway, why Michael and Lucifer had not just continued their battle after being dropped in here- I guess they both knew it would be kind of futile and not get them anywhere. At least that meant that Adam was, for the most part, unharmed. I was sure of that.

Myself on the other hand, I couldn't vouch for.

My limbs trembled with fear and now I dared to open my eyes. For all I knew I could have been blind, but of course I wasn't, it was just dark. Really dark.

I tried to calm my breathing, to force my heart to stop pounding and beat normally.

I was exhausted, more than I had ever been in my life it seemed, but I dared not sleep. I couldn't sleep.

I could feel my limbs shake with weariness and I bowed my head. This is what I had to look forward to. Forever.

I know that when someone says something is forever it's hard to get your head around that concept. I know I felt that way before, before I had taken the leap into the Cage. Now, forever didn't seem so abstract- it seemed very, very real. No one was going to save me. I had made Dean promise to stay away, for his own safety, and now I was trapped, unable to call for help, no one to answer my cries and at the mercy of a creature that had none.

My head shot up and my eyes flicked back and forth frantically when I felt Lucifer's presence.

"No," I breathed as though that one word would stop the Devil.

"Sam," he hissed, his voice filled with an almost palpable hate.

Freezing agony seared through my body and I cried out in pain. I begged for Lucifer to stop but he wouldn't.

The pain seemed to increase and I gasped. I couldn't even speak now; I was in so much pain.

Suddenly the pain ceased and I slumped forward, my hair falling over my face and obscuring my features. My arms and legs shook with small tremors. Lucifer's presence remained, watching me.

"Dean," I muttered when I found my voice again. I wanted my brother so badly. I felt so alone, so cold and in so much pain. I wanted my brother to make it all stop; forget what I'd made him promise, and save me.

I choked back a sob because I knew the truth. No matter what I told myself, I knew Dean was never going to come to my rescue, not this time.

Lucifer just laughed at me and that made it worse. I could feel warm tears flowing freely from my eyes and down my face.

"Look at me," Lucifer ordered and although I couldn't see him in the darkness I lifted my head.

I sensed the Devil smile in a smug, satisfied way.

I whimpered and bowed my head again.

I gasped in agony as pain enveloped me once more. I cried out for Lucifer to stop, for Dean to come and take me away from this place, for anything that would put an end to this nightmare…

…It took some time before I realized where I was. I had my eyes squeezed shut. I was curled in a tight ball and slowly the sounds of rural Montana surrounded me as thought someone was turning up the volume on one of the nature CDs.

I could hear the unending chirrup of crickets in the fields outside, the lowing of the Meyers' dairy cows a few miles down the road, the occasionally whinny of the horses.

All I could smell was the fresh, dry scent of straw and the moist, earthy tang of manure. Slowly I uncurled myself- my limbs still wracked with phantom pain- and carefully opened my eyes.

It was before sunrise but my eyes watered at the brightness of the grey pre-dawn sky, the glare foretelling of a bright, sunny day ahead.

I sat up and picked bits of straw from my clothes and out of my hair. I was covered in a cold sweat and I was trembling slightly, my breathing rapid and shallow. I took a deep breath in through my nose and then out through my mouth, continuing like that until my heart rate began to slow.

That's when the real panic set in.

I had just had a flashback- a really vivid flashback, the first true one since before killing Lucifer. I didn't even want to think what that might mean.

I didn't take time to consider the fact that it was probably caused by the PTSD- flashbacks being a symptom, of course- but after waking from the three-month coma only to have nightmares, I had thought that the worst of the symptoms were over with.

I stood, unsteadily; my legs shaking beneath me like a newborn foal's as I gingerly made my way to the ladder and clambered down, almost losing my grip twice but managing to set both feet on the solid cement floor without falling and bashing my head and that was good enough for me. I grabbed my cane and limped back to the house as fast as my legs would carry me.

The door slammed shut behind me. I pulled my boots off, leaning against the wall as I did so, and then limped upstairs. I padded into the room I shared with Sarah and grabbed some clean clothes and headed straight for the shower.

I stood under the scalding water, trying to get warm again. I stepped downstairs clad in blue jeans, socks, a white t-shirt and a black hoodie, zipped all the way up.

I limped into the kitchen and poured myself a generous mug of coffee. I shuffled into the living room and sat down on the recliner, elevating my legs and picked up a book that sat on the end table beside the chair.

I flipped through the pages of From a Buick 8, not really reading at all. I huddled in the chair, unable to get warm. I drank some more coffee

"Sam? Are you alright?" I heard Sarah ask and looked up to see her standing in the doorway, holding Aaron.

"Oh, yeah," I cleared my throat and spoke.

Sarah smiled, "hold onto this little guy for me, will you?"

I held out my hands and Sarah slipped our son into my grasp. Aaron looked up at me and burbled happily.

"Hey bud," I said and rocked Aaron a little, "what's up?"

Sarah and Faith came down the stairs a half hour later. I had put Aaron into his highchair and was feeding him cereal which he got on his face more often than in his mouth.

"Morning Daddy," Faith cried and ran over for a hug.

I looked at my wife and gave a wan smile, "can you drive me to Butte?"

"Sure," Sarah said and looked at me uneasily.

"Are you sure you're fine?" she asked and unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself.

I nodded and turned to Aaron, who was hopping up and down in his chair, gurgling for food.

Later that day Sarah down to Butte herself, saying she needed to run some errands anyway, and left me with the kids.

I didn't mind though, I wanted to spend time with my son and daughter.

I sat on the couch and read to them. Faith sitting snuggled up against me and Aaron in his playpen. I read Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak over and over again because Faith, out of all the children's books we had bought for her, loved this one only.

At least she doesn't want me to read A Modest Proposal or something, I thought and flipped back to the first page and began reading once again.

After a while I heard Faith's breathing begin to slow and looked down to see her eyes closed and her thumb in her mouth, fast asleep.

I smiled and carefully moved my daughter into a more comfortable position on the couch.

Making my way toward the kitchen I paused to look out the window above the kitchen sink- I could see the rolling plains of the prairie, hear the sound of crickets and cows, smell the grasses and thought about how peaceful it was out here.

Peace. That's all I've ever wanted really, ever since I was a child. I was finally getting it now, though and that would at least count for something.

The only thing was what was the price for all this?

The peace didn't last long though.

It was the third week of August, a Friday, while eating dinner, the phone in the living room rang. Sarah and I looked at one another- nobody called unless it was serious.

I got up, grabbed the cane and limped into the living room and answered the phone.

"Hello?" I asked with slight trepidation.

"Am I speaking to a Mr. Sam Winchester?" an unfamiliar female voice asked.

"Yes, how can I help you?" I answered.

"My name is Doctor Carmichael and I'm calling to inform you that Robert Singer has had a heart attack-" I interrupted the doctor.

"What! Is he alright?" I exclaimed. Oh no, I thought, Bobby couldn't be dead.

"He's alive but he's still in the hospital under observation," Doctor Carmichael said.

"Why are you calling me?" I couldn't help but ask. Surely Bobby had relatives he could contact in case of an emergency.

"Mr. Singer asked me to phone you Mr. Winchester," Doctor Carmichael said, sounding surprised I even asked.

"Okay, I'll come up right away," I said and hung up the phone after asking what hospital Bobby was in.

Sarah looked up at me from the dinner table.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking concerned.

"Bobby's in the hospital- he's had a heart attack," I answered.

"Oh Sam… is he?" Sarah stood and walked forward.

"He's okay," I answered, "but I should go and see him just the same."

Sarah nodded. She knew Bobby was practically a second father to me and Dean.

"I won't be long, I promise," I walked to Sarah and kissed and hugged her. I really didn't want to leave but I needed to see Bobby.

I moved past the table, kissing the top of Faith's head as I went. Aaron was already upstairs asleep in his nursery. I climbed the stairs and grabbed a couple of changes of clothes- stuffed them in my duffel bag that had found a new home at the bottom of our closet- went into the bathroom, took my toothbrush, etc. and my pills I came back downstairs and stood in the front hall, duffel bag in one hand, cane in the other.

Faith realized I was leaving and she followed me out to the front hall. She stared up at me with her big, dark blue eyes with an expression that melted my heart.

"I'll be back really soon, Sweetheart," I said as I tied the laces of my shoes.

"Who's gonna…gonna read?" Faith asked, her lower lip quivering.

"Mommy can read to you tonight," I said and straightened up. I knew Faith would be unhappy and refuse to have anyone read to her until I came home.

Faith wrapped her small arms around my legs and buried her face in my jeans. I looked helplessly at Sarah.

"Come here, Dear," Sarah moved forward and carefully pried our daughter off my legs.

She picked Faith up and held her so that she was almost eye-to-eye with me.

"Why don't you pick out a book that Mommy can read to you?" I asked but Faith didn't look at all placated.

I decided to leave before I lost my nerve. I walked outside and down the steps of the wooden porch.

I unlocked the door of the pickup truck, tossing my bag onto the passenger's seat, settled inside and sighed. I wanted to see Bobby but I didn't want to have to drive all over the States every few weeks. I wanted to stay in Montana with my wife and kids. I pulled out onto the road and dug my cell phone from the pocket of my jeans and pushed Dean's number on Speed Dial.

"I'm already ahead of you Sammy," Dean said without prompting.

"I should be there in a few hours," I said.

"Meet you at Bobby's than go to the hospital?" Dean asked.

"Sure," I answered.

"See you there," Dean said and shut his phone.

I drove throughout the night and well into the next morning. I wanted to get this over with- see Bobby and then go home.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon before I reached Sioux Falls. I was exhausted from all night and most of the day- I hadn't even stopped to eat.

I pulled up to Bobby's junkyard and parked. I stepped out of the truck and stretched. I looked around and saw Dean's truck was parked nearby- the Impala was back in retirement then.

I went to the front door and knocked. I heard Rebel come tearing through the house, barking and snapping. Dean appeared and opened the door, shoving the dog out of the way and I stepped inside.

"Want a beer?" Dean asked and we headed into the kitchen.

"How long have you been here?" I asked Dean, wondering how he managed to get to South Dakota before I had.

"Got here a half hour ago," Dean said and handed me a bottle of beer.

"Were you racing?" I asked and took a large gulp of alcohol.

"You're just not used to driving long distances on a time limit," Dean said and chuckled.

"How's Lisa?" I asked. Rebel came into the kitchen and began sniffing around the linoleum.

"She's good. She didn't want me coming out here but she knows how I feel about Bobby so she didn't make a big deal about it," Dean answered.

"What about S.J. and Ben?" I continued.

"Awesome," Dean said, "Ben's trying to teach S.J. to play baseball."

I smiled and peered around the kitchen. There was a pile of mail on the table and the sink was full of dishes in once-soapy water. It was clear that Bobby hadn't been here in a few days.

"Should we get this over with?" I asked Dean, indicating our visit to Bobby.

Dean nodded and we finished our beers.

We stepped outside and Dean locked the door behind us. He had found the extra key Bobby kept hidden under a rock in what used to be his wife's garden.

Dean and I decided to take my truck, since it was kind of blocking the driveway anyway, and headed out to the small hospital in town.

Dean and I stepped into the tiny health care facility and walked up to the nurses' station.

"We're here to see Bobby Singer," I told the nurse on duty.

"He's in room 103," she said in a bored voice and Dean and I walked down the very old but meticulously clean hallway to Bobby's room.

As Dean and I headed down the hall I couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit nervous. I had never really liked hospitals- who does?- but after waking up from a three-month coma in some hospital in Alaska two years ago they made me more uncomfortable than usual.

This hospital had scuffed beige speckled tile floors and light yellow walls- to make it cheery, I guess.

We came to the door of room 103 and paused.

"You want to go first?" Dean asked as though we were not going to see Bobby but some unknown patient.

I rolled my eyes and opened the door. I stepped into the room and saw Bobby sitting up in bed, his back propped up with pillows.

This was the second time Dean and I had seen the old hunter in the hospital but I couldn't get over how vulnerable he looked.

Dean stepped inside after me and we moved to the side of Bobby's bed. His eyes followed us as we moved but he said nothing at first.

All I could think of what would have happened if Bobby had died.

"You two look like you're ready for a funeral," Bobby grumbled.

Dean and I said nothing.

"It'll take more'n a heart attack to get rid of me," Bobby boasted, "now wipe those sad looks of your faces, I'm not dead yet."

"How bad is it Bobby?" Dean asked. He looked at the heart monitor Bobby was hooked up to.

"Doc Carmichael said I just have to take it easy for a while-" Bobby began but I interrupted him.

"This is serious!" I exclaimed. I knew that Bobby would act like everything was alright but he wasn't as young as he used to be and couldn't be so cocky about stuff anymore, he wasn't invincible.

Bobby stared at me, surprised at my outburst.

"Ah, don't you worry about me you two. You got enough on your plates with wives and kids that you don't need to be bothering with me," Bobby said.

"Bobby," Dean began slowly.

"We thought we lost you… when the doctor called and said you'd had a heart attack. For a minute I thought you'd kicked the bucket. I know you can put on a brave face and act like you're immortal but you're not, Bobby. Hell, I used to act like that all the time but you have to realize now that you're just human and someday you really will shuffle off this mortal coil," Dean said with tears in his eyes. I think he was speaking for the both of us.

Bobby looked from Dean to me and back at Dean. I think he was stunned at Dean's chick-flick moment.

The old hunter sighed and looked chagrined.

"We're gonna talk to the doctor," Dean said and we walked from the room in search of Doctor Carmichael.

Dean and I went back to the nurses' station and asked after the good doctor. The bored nurse said that if we wanted to sit in the waiting room and the doctor would be out soon enough. Dean and I sat on a couple of grey chairs and waited for Doctor Carmichael.

My brother picked up a Men's Health magazine and flipped through it. I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair impatiently.

"Mr. Winchester?" a female voice asked.

Both Dean and I looked up and replied 'yes' at the same time.

The doctor looked from Dean to me and back.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean," I answered her slightly confused look.

"Of course," Doctor Carmichael sloughed off her confusion with grace.

"We wanted to get your professional opinion on how Bobby's doing," Dean sat the magazine down and stood.

"Can we talk in my office?" Doctor Carmichael suggested and we followed her down a different hallway from the one where Bobby's room was.

At the end of the hall Doctor Carmichael ushered us into her office. It was a small, square room with a large, old desk made of wood and two blue upholstered swivel chairs. Dean and I sat across from the doctor. I saw numerous diplomas and certificates on the walls; there was a small bookshelf with medical texts on it. On the desk were framed photographs of her family.

Doctor Carmichael sat down at her desk and tented her fingers before her. She was an older woman, probably close to Bobby's age- she had dirty blonde hair streaked with grey and eyes the colour of chocolate. She didn't wear any makeup. She looked straight at Dean and me, a frown on her face.

"Bobby's heart attack was a minor one but I am afraid that it may lead to a more severe one in the future, he's not a young man anymore and he knows it too," Doctor Carmichael said.

"What can we do to help?" Dean asked.

"I'm going to write him up a prescription for nitroglycerine pills to take daily and I'd also like to get him on a better diet and have him do some exercises," Doctor Carmichael continued.

I looked at Dean and saw he was thinking the same thing: Bobby wasn't going to want to change his lifestyle now.

"You two can make sure Bobby sticks to the pills and eats healthy foods and gets some exercise at least three times a week," the doctor advised.

"We both live out of state," Dean protested.

Doctor Carmichael paused for a moment and then said, "I guess it'll be up to Bobby than, how well he takes care of himself."

"When can Bobby go home?" Dean asked.

"Early tomorrow morning, I think," the doctor answered.

"Thank you Doctor Carmichael," I said and Dean and I left her office. The doctor herself went down the hallway to see another patient.

Dean and I made our way down the hallway, through the waiting room and out of the hospital.

We didn't speak as we drove back to Bobby's junk yard. I gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"If anything had happened to Bobby…" I began and just shook my head.

Dean nodded, "I know."

We parked the pickup and stepped inside.

Dean went to the fridge and pulled a couple of beers out.

I opened mine and took a swig of the cold alcohol. Rebel came out and stared up at Dean and me, whining to be fed.

"Bobby's not gonna like what the doc has to say," Dean said and took a gulp of his own beer.

I nodded, "he'll have to though if he wants to stay healthy."

Dean moved over to one of the cupboards and pulled out a bag of kibble for the dog and filed a bowlful and set it on the floor. Rebel immediately chowed down on the food, his stubby tail wagged happily.

"You hungry?" Dean asked and finished his beer.

"Yeah," I answered.

Dean opened the fridge, frowned at the lack of food inside- mostly condiments and beer, an old jug of milk- and peered cautiously into the freezer.

"Wonder if Bobby's got some steak downstairs," Dean mused, mostly to himself than to me.

I nodded and followed Dean down the stairs. We stepped down on the concrete floor of the lowest level of Bobby's house and I couldn't help but look over at his panic room.

The basement was dimly lit, rarely used by the old hunter and that gave the panic room an ominous presence.

As I stared at the demon-proof room I thought about the times I had been in there going through withdrawal from demon blood.

I shuddered at the memories- a place that Bobby had obviously meant for protection I now associated with pain.

"Hey Sam, freezer's this way," Dean spoke up. He had moved from the stairs and the panic room to stand in the doorway of the small utility room Bobby kept his washer, dryer, and large freezer in.

"Yeah," I muttered.

Dean lifted the lid of the huge white freezer and dug through all the goodies to try and find a couple of good sized steaks. As he worked I kept my back to the open doorway. I know this sounds crazy but it felt as though the panic room had a consciousness of its own, that it had an awareness and that it could sense I was nearby. I know, crazy right? But that's just how it felt.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked and looked up at me.

I cleared my throat, "of course."

Once Dean had found some steaks to his liking and we were headed back upstairs, I gave the panic room a wide berth. Dean couldn't help but notice of course. When we were back in the kitchen, Dean turned and looked at me with a serious expression.

"It's the panic room, isn't it?" he asked as he set the steaks on the counter to defrost.

"What about it?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"It's making you uncomfortable... I can see it on your face," Dean said.

I began to shake my head and then stopped and sighed.

"You were thinking about when I locked you in there," Dean said, sounding guilty.

"Dean, you had to. You know you had to. You didn't have a choice," I said.

"I know…but…" Dean began but stopped talking.

"Just forget it," I said, stopping the conversation that was making us both uncomfortable.

For a moment Dean looked like he wanted to continue, but didn't and I was grateful for that. I didn't want to talk about the panic room anymore.

"Maybe we should go out and get something to go along with those steaks," I suggested, changing the subject.

Rebel padded into the kitchen and whined at us.

Dean reached down and scratched behind the Rottweiler's ears, "we won't be long, boy."

We drove to the small grocery store in Sioux Falls- it seemed like everything in the town was half the size of their metropolitan counterparts. Dean and I grabbed a fresh jug of milk, a head of lettuce, a bag of carrots, a green and red pepper and a basket of button mushrooms.

I thought about Bobby and how he was going to have to change everything if he wanted to stay with us for a long time to come. I know that Dean was feeling the same way, we wanted to help Bobby but really, he was a grown man and should be able to take care of himself.

SPN

As soon as we set foot back in Bobby's humble home, Sam went into the living room and pondered over the old hunter's collection of books before picking one at random and seating himself at Bobby's desk.

I had called Sam the day after arriving back in Cicero and apologized for my outburst about his leg. Sam, true to his nature, had told me not to worry about it and that made me feel even guiltier. I don't know why, perhaps it would have been better if Sam had gotten angry at me, called me a jerk, and slammed the phone down on its receiver. But no, he had just took a deep breath (I could almost imagine him running a hand through his hair) and told me in a quiet voice that he shouldn't have kept something like that from me and then he had apologized to me. After that I didn't really know what to say, Sam had been getting more and more passive, distant as the years passed, and I wasn't sure I liked it. Of course I didn't like when we'd fight, yelling at one another over the phone or, if we were in the same room, throw punches at one another, but at least pissed off, defensive Sam was better than meek, apologetic Sam. I couldn't help but feel that maybe this personality change in my brother was my fault, that when I had asked Death to bring Sam back from the brink of, well, death, it had done something to him. The evidence was there, glaringly so, especially after shooting Jonah Thompson when Sam had seemed genuinely shocked by what he'd done. Don't get me wrong, we'd killed other people before, and a lot of people had died because of us but Sam's reaction would be one of pity, not dismay at taking another human's life. We both understood that sometimes we had no choice and although it sucked big time, we didn't dwell on it too much. We couldn't afford to think about how things could have been, not in our line of work.

I held back a sigh and went into the kitchen, grabbed yet another couple of beers and padded quietly into the living room. I set one unopened bottle on the desk and Sam looked up momentarily and muttered his thanks.

I moved over to the couch and sat down. I looked at my brother for a moment and turned my gaze to the bookshelf, reading the titles idly.

I wanted to talk but knew that Sam didn't. He would shut me down if I tried.

Rebel came over and leaned against my legs, looking up at me with large brown eyes. I reached down and stroked his head for a few minutes.

It was still pretty early and I wasn't ready to start dinner just yet so I found a deck of cards in Bobby's junk drawer in the kitchen and sat at the table playing solitaire while Sam leafed through whatever book he'd found interesting.

I thought about Lisa. I had tried to convince her to go see a marriage councilor with me, to try and fix our relationship and she had finally relented.

'We'll try Dean but I'm not making any promises,' she had told me as she looked at the white business card I had showed her.

I smiled grimly at the playing cards as I recalled that conversation. Lisa didn't even seem to want to fix it; she seemed content to go through with the divorce.

Ben had become very moody and sulky, muttering in a surly voice when he did decide to speak to us. S.J. seemed frightened that one day I would just vanish and he was very clingy toward me, almost annoyingly so.

A half an hour later Sam and I began to prepare our dinner. Neither of us spoke. I chewed my lower lip, glancing at my brother's face occasionally as though checking his emotions. Sam's face was closed though, I had no idea what was going through his mind. I held back a sigh and continued chopping up lettuce for salad.

Come on Dean, say something to him, I thought and wondered why we were slipping back into silence again. After everything that had happened to us, we couldn't seem to stop drifting away from one another.

Something's troubling him, you know it is, I thought and then tried to decide if I wanted to ask Sam about it at all. If I really wanted to know.

"Lisa and I are seeing a marriage councilor," I said as conversationally as I could.

"What?" Sam looked up, "why?"

I shrugged, "Lisa's really insecure right now. She thinks I'm gonna run away with you or something."

My brother stopped cleaning the mushrooms and stared at me.

"What? Fifty percent of marriages in America end in divorce or so I'm told so I'm not all that surprised," I said and tried to give a wry smile.

Sam looked down but said nothing.

"Sam, what's up?" I asked.

"S'my fault, isn't it?" Sam muttered, breaking a mushroom into tiny pieces.

"Don't be stupid," I said, "Lisa and I are not getting a divorce because of you. In fact, if I have anything to say about we are not getting a divorce at all."

I couldn't help but notice how much Sam sounded just like a little kid, thinking his parents are separating because of something he did.

"Lisa's never liked me, you know that and it got worse after I came back," Sam insisted.

"So? What's it to her? It isn't like you're living across the street," I argued.

"You said it yourself though, Dean: Lisa's afraid we're gonna take off on some suicidal road trip together like Thelma and Louise or something," Sam continued.

I snorted laughter at the reference.

"You have some serious guilt issues, Sam," I chuckled but my brother didn't return my mirth.

"Oh, c'mon Sam! Let's be serious for a moment, here. My marriage to Lisa is not on the rocks because of you. I'm sure you could have saved a whole friggin' busload of puppies from dropping over the edge of the Glen Canyon Dam and still she'd want a divorce," I exclaimed and Rebel began barking like an idiot from his place in the living room.

"Shut up!" I snapped at the dog and glared at my brother.

For a college boy he can be really dumb sometimes, I thought nastily and chopped up the rest of the lettuce with a vengeance.

Sam and I didn't speak to one another during dinner; we didn't talk as we washed the dishes and put them away. I went back to my solitaire and Sam disappeared into the living room once again.

When I got bored of cards I shuffled surreptitiously toward the wing-back chairs to see my brother fast asleep, arms crossed over a thick text, head pillowed on his forearms, still sitting at the desk.

I sighed and grabbed the old afghan blanket from the couch and draped it over my brother. I know, I know. Make up my mind already. After getting angry at Sam I later go into Protective-Big-Brother-Mode. I just can't help it though. He looked so tired lying slumped over Bobby's desk like that, I had to do something. I moved to the couch and laid down, one hand trailing down when Rebel came over to sniff at me curiously.

I must have slept like a rock because I only woke when I felt someone shaking the heck out of me.

"G'wayyyy," I muttered sleepily and waved one hand limply.

"Dean, get up," I heard Sam's voice whisper in my ear.

"G'back t'sleep, Sammy" I mumbled but my brother would not let up.

"Dean, its Cas," I opened my eyes and stared at Sam's green ones, dark with worry and, damn it, that permanent haunted expression.

I gently shoved Sam out of the way and sat up, stretched and only then noticed the trench coat clad angel standing in the middle of the living room.


	29. Lord Of The Flies

"You look like shit," I said and wiped a hand over my face to try and wake up.

"You look exhausted and under a great deal of stress," Cas replied.

"Huh, I guess it's that obvious?" I asked and blinked a couple of times. It was still very dark inside the house, the sky outside was barely the grey of approaching dawn.

Sam sat down beside me on the couch and looked at the angel expectantly.

"So what's with the early morning wake up call, Cas?" I asked, "something happen?"

"No," the angel replied emotionlessly, "at least not yet."

"Would you like to share with the rest of the class?" I asked when nothing more was forthcoming.

Cas shook himself a little, as though to gather his bearings, "I apologize for not coming sooner. I have been… preoccupied."

"Where's Abdiel?" Sam asked, surprised that the British angel was not in our company.

"He is still in Heaven," Cas said in a voice that told us that the case was closed.

Large blue eyes turned to Sam and I and Cas seemed to be gearing up to tell us something big, "your children are in danger."

Sam and I both froze.

"What kind of danger?" I asked.

"When Raphael succeeds in resurrecting Lucifer I think that the Devil and Michael will come after your children because they have continually been prevented by you two into 'fulfilling their destiny'," Cas said, looking at Sam.

"You mean that Raphael is going to bring Lucifer back?" I asked, "There's not 'maybe' now? It's certain?"

Cas nodded sadly.

"But, why our kids?" I stammered, my heart leaped into my throat in an attempt to choke me.

Cas turned his gaze to me, "not your children, Dean. Sam's."

I blinked, "what?"

Sam looked stricken. Even in the dim lighting I could see that the blood had drained from his face. His hand found my wrist and he dug his fingers into my arm.

"Although both Benjamin and Samuel James are your children, only your youngest has your blood running through his veins. Both Lucifer and Michael are… sticklers for the rules and they will pass over your sons because only the one is your biological offspring. Sam's son and daughter on the other hand both share his blood and would be a far better choice of vessels for my two brothers," Cas spoke in a way that conveyed how sorry he was that he had to tell us this information.

Sam gulped, "but their just babies."

"It will take years for Raphael to collect every molecule of Lucifer and by that time, Faith and Aaron will have grown," Cas said but that likely did nothing to make Sam feel better.

"How can we protect them? If Michael and Lucifer are going to come knocking one day?" I asked since Sam appeared to have lost the ability for speech.

"You must tell them of the danger, that is their only chance," Castiel said, "Lucifer and Michael will be very careful about obtaining their vessels this time, they will not want to fail again."

Sam just shook his head and I heard him swallow convulsively. I wrapped one arm around his shoulder and Sam leaned into me, grateful for the contact.

"We'll keep Aaron and Faith safe, you got it? There's no way those douchebags are gonna suck your kids into their game," I assured my brother and Sam nodded mutely.

I glared at the angel. Why tell us now? Why tell Sam at all? Just to heap some more crap on top of him? I wondered how much more of this my brother could take.

Cas stepped forward and raised a hand, placing two fingers on Sam's forehead and knocking my brother out cold. I didn't stop the angel. I had a feeling he'd want to talk to me in private.

I lowered Sam down until he was laying on the couch, carefully moving him even as I stood up myself. Once I was sure he was in a comfortable position I turned to the angel.

"Nice touch Cas," I muttered, "you really sugar-coated it for him."

"I only told you the truth of the matter, Dean. I said no more or less than what Sam needed to hear," the angel said.

"So, Faith and Aaron? Really?" I asked.

"Yes, that is what I believe," Cas said, "and recalling your history with Michael and Lucifer it appears the most realistic."

I sighed, "Jesus Christ."

Cas looked about to say something like 'Jesus Christ has nothing to do with this' but thankfully he kept his mouth shut.

"Dean, this is your doing, you know that, right?" the angel said.

"My doing? How?" I snapped, defensive now.

"If you had let Death take Sam away on February fourth his son and daughter would never have been born and destined for such a fate," Cas said, bristling.

"How the hell was I supposed to know this was gonna happen Cas? I'm not psychic! I had no idea that old Raffie would try and bring Lucifer back from the dead! Jeez, I didn't know that Sam and Sarah would even have kids!" I exclaimed.

"Dean, you were warned that there would be consequences to your actions if you asked Death to spare Sam," Cas reminded me.

"So what do we do now?" I asked, trying not to be angry at the angel, "tell them that one day Mickey and Lucy will come by and ask them a question?"

"That day may never come," Cas said and I could see he had his Thinking Cap on.

"Enlighten me then," I said.

"I could have the children… destroyed and wipe Sam and Sarah's memories so they do not even remember they existed," Cas suggested.

"No," I practically growled. There was no fucking way I was gonna agree to having Faith and Aaron killed and Sarah and Sam brainwashed into thinking they'd never had kids. I couldn't do that to my niece and nephew. I couldn't do that to Sarah. In good conscious I would never do that to my brother.

"It would be the most painless way-" Cas tried again but I interrupted.

"I said no," I pronounced every word slowly so the angel would get the hint.

Cas ducked his head, "alight Dean. You and Sam will have to be vigilant though, you will have to let the children know exactly what is out there."

I nodded. I didn't like the idea of having that conversation with S.J. one day- and hopefully I'd never have to- so I could only imagine Sam's opinion of having to tell his children that yes, monsters are real, and yes, they might come after you.

"I wish things could have turned out differently for your brother's family, Dean, I really do," Cas said sadly.

"Don't you give up on them just yet Cas. If Faith and Aaron are anything like their Dad they'll tell Michael and Lucifer just where they can shove their 'yes'," I said confidently.

Cas, although he gave a small smile- just a slight curl of the lips, really- did not look reassured at all.

"I will help whenever I can," Cas promised and his gaze shifted upward as though inspecting the ceiling.

"I have stayed far too long," Cas muttered, mostly to himself I think and disappeared with a slight breeze and the barely perceptible flutter of wings, without another word.

I turned and looked at my brother, lying on the couch fast asleep and decided to catch up on some shut-eye as well. There was nothing I could do until Sam woke up anyway so I curled into the blue wing back chair and promptly fell into a deep slumber.

I woke up when bright, warm sunlight slanted across my face. I stretched and yawned, looking around and saw that the sun was indeed up now and it was looking to be a nice day. I stood and looked to Sam- he was still fast asleep- and I decided not to wake him.

I shambled into the kitchen and put some coffee grounds in the maker and waited for the caffeine to brew.

I sat down at the table, leaning the chair back and recalled the conversation Sam and I had had with Cas the night before. Suddenly the day didn't seem so cheery and carefree.

Damn, I thought and stood and peered into the living room at Sam.

Poor guy, I mused, never catches a break.

When the coffee was done I poured a generous amount into one of Bobby's old, chipped mugs and turned when I heard Sam shuffle into the room.

"What'd you and Cas talk about?" He never missed a beat though.

I shrugged one shoulder.

"Guy stuff," I said mysteriously and Sam gave his patented eye roll.

My brother grabbed a mug for the cupboard, poured himself some coffee and leaned against the counter, his free hand gripping the laminate for support.

"When you getting that leg of yours checked out?" I asked casually, not wanting to get into a fight again.

"Two weeks from now," Sam answered and sipped at the hot beverage.

"You gonna tell Sarah about, you know, the kids?" I asked hesitantly.

Sam shook his head, his bangs falling forward to obscure his eyes before he brushed them back and answered, "I don't want to frighten her. I don't know, I guess I will if I absolutely have to but until then, I'd rather not."

That seemed reasonable enough. No sense in scaring the poor woman about something that (according to Cas) may take years to come about anyway.

I finished my coffee and then made my way upstairs to shower and change into some clean clothes.

I came down the stairs, dressed in fresh jeans and a short-sleeved shirt and drank some more coffee once Sam had gone upstairs himself.

Rebel came into the kitchen and whined to be fed.

"Okay, okay, jeez, what is it with dogs and mealtimes?" I asked the Rottweiler as I poured some kibble into a bowl and set it on the floor. Copper, the great big goof that he is, jumps and barks, pawing at my clothes whenever I'm getting his food ready as though I'm gonna give it to our other, invisible dog instead of him.

Forty-five minutes after my brother came downstairs; we were tearing down the road toward the hospital in an old, red T-Bird we 'liberated' from the junk yard since our trucks would not fit three grown men comfortably.

I parked in front of the sliding doors and ran into the hospital while Sam remained in the car. I jogged to Bobby's room and found that he had already changed into his civvies, including his grimy baseball cap and looking annoyed.

"Thought you were gonna leave me here all day," Bobby grumbled.

"Jeez Bobby, its nine-thirty in the morning," I said in exasperation but then Bobby cracked a smile to let me know he wasn't really angry at me.

"You ready to go?" I asked.

"You betcha I'm ready," the old hunter said, "Doc Carmichael gave me to 'go ahead' and everything."

A couple of orderlies entered the room as if on cue and insisted Bobby take a wheelchair out to the car. The old hunter grumbled about his legs not being broken but allowed the one orderly to push him down the hall. I guess Bobby didn't want to be reminded of when he had been confined to a wheelchair with the prospects of never regaining the use of his legs again. I didn't blame him for wanting to walk out of the hospital but I also didn't want him to trip or something and get hurt. I know, Bobby's not that old but, hey, I worry about him just as I would any other member of my family.

When Bobby saw our choice of transportation he whistled, impressed.

"You finally got the old girl going," he said and stood up once we reached the T-Bird.

"Was nuthin'," I joked, mock bashful.

Sam held the front passenger door open for Bobby and the old hunter slipped into the car with a sigh.

My brother slid into the back seat and actually stretched out, the back was big enough I guess, but now that he was older he rarely did that sort of thing, and I got in on the driver's side and started the car, eliciting a growl from the 'old girl' as I turned the key in the ignition.

"If you ever need a job, I'll be happy to have you," Bobby said as we peeled out of the parking lot and through the town.

"Thanks Bobby," I muttered, actually quite surprised and grateful he'd offered.

"Need to stop at the grocery store for some stuff before we head home," I said and pulled into the lot, maneuvering around Kias and Fords and Toyotas with ease until I found a spot to stop the whale-sized T-Bird.

Bobby and I remained in the car while Sam grabbed the things for breakfast. Before leaving for the hospital Sam had suggested we try and get the old hunter to eat healthier foods. If that didn't work, at least Bobby would know such things were out there and of course we'd check in on him when we brought the kids over for visits and stuff.

I secretly thought that Sam was out of his mind if he thought Bobby could be plied with that New Age, rabbit food crap he ate. But hey, knock yourself out Sammy… and if you don't I'm sure Bobby would oblige you.

Not ten minutes later Sam came back, carrying a white plastic grocery bag in one hand. Bobby eyed the bag curiously but Sam just moved it from his line of sight.

"How's that leg feeling, boy?" Bobby asked.

"Alright," Sam answered and in the rearview mirror I saw my brother's hand go compulsively to his knee.

Back at the salvage yard I had my work cut out for me entertaining the old hunter, keeping him out of the kitchen more like, while Sam cooked.

Bobby and I sat on a couple of lawn chairs that had seen better days out on the porch and drank coffee.

Rebel lay curled up at his master's feet, snoozing contentedly.

"Since when has Sam wanted to play Mad Scientist?" Bobby asked and sipped at his mug of coffee.

Sam and I hadn't told him that the coffee, from a fresh batch, was decaf. My brother and I got the good stuff.

I shrugged, "maybe spending all his time with Sarah has him in touch with his feminine side."

Bobby chuckled.

The old hunter sighed, leaned back in his chair and gazed out at the maze of ruined and in-need-of-TLC cars.

Quietly I told Bobby about Cas's visit and what he had told Sam and I about Lucifer and Michael and Faith and Aaron. I didn't reiterate the more private conversation the angel and I had when Sam had been in LaLa Land though. Bobby didn't need to know that, it was just between Cas and me.

I thought I saw the old hunter's eyes grow moist but he blinked a few times, gulped down some coffee and I realized I must have been mistaken.

Bobby shook his head, "those sons of bitches dragging a couple of innocent kids into this mess…"

"But we're not going to let that happen Bobby, Sam and I are not going to let anything happen to those kids," I assured the old hunter.

I knew what I was saying: Sam and I had barely managed to keep ourselves out of the angels' grasps and now we were vowing to give it our all for Faith and Aaron? You have to understand though, before where it was just Sam and I against Lucifer and Michael it was easier to give in because we, uh, didn't really have anything to fight for but one another (and I think that helped Sam solidify his decision to say 'yes' to Lucifer and jump into the Cage) because it was only Sam and I, just the two of us to fight for. Now though, I knew that Sam would fight like never before to keep his two children safe. He knew what it was like to be possessed by Lucifer and there was no way in Hell he'd let that bastard take one of his kids.

"Ayuh, and I'll help as much as I can," Bobby said, "can't think of anything happening to my grandkids."

I smiled. I felt a shiver of pleasure knowing that Bobby considered Sam's kids and mine his grandchildren. It just continued to reinforce the fact that the old hunter considered Sam and I his sons and that we truly were his family, blood or no.

"Breakfast's ready!" Sam called from the kitchen and Bobby and I moved into the house.

I entered the kitchen with trepidation, despite the wonderful smells wafting from the room and glanced at the table and saw… bacon, eggs, orange juice, toast, and tomatoes.

I took a seat and Bobby followed suit. Sam sat down after a moment and looked at us almost shyly.

"Well, dig in," Sam gestured.

Okay, well, breakfast wasn't full of the usual fatty, greasy foods often found at that meal, there were some differences.

The toast was unbuttered whole wheat, the orange juice sugar-free, the bacon was turkey instead of pork and the eggs were only the whites, no yolks. Tomatoes sliced for sandwiches.

As I ate (I tried a bit of everything) I couldn't help but feel like I was on the Atkins diet or something but I said nothing so as not to embarrass Sam. Maybe later, I thought and gulped some juice.

Bobby hadn't touched anything at first, just stared at the new, pseudo-food with an expressionless look and I was afraid he'd bitch at Sam about taking license or feeding him poison or something. But the old hunter didn't say a word, didn't even look at Sam and ate the food without comment.

After eating I made a show of stretching, stifling a burp and patted my stomach, "that was great Sam."

I had hoped to prompt Bobby into talking but the old hunter still said nothing, silently excused himself from the table and headed outside.

Sam looked at me with a morose expression.

"Don't sweat it Sammy," I said, "I think Bobby's just in shock from the fact you're Julie Child reincarnated."

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes but the sad expression remained, "maybe I stepped out of bounds, you know, you mess with a man's food…"

"Bobby'll get over it," I said and stood, helping Sam load the dishwasher and put the leftovers into containers.

Sam shrugged, like it didn't really matter.

I held back the urge to sigh and went to find Bobby.

The old hunter was underneath an old Pontiac, trying to fix it but it looked like the car was on its last legs.

I crouched down with my hands on my knees, "hey Bobby? What'd you, ah, what'd you think of breakfast?"

Bobby grumbled and he slid out from beneath the car, sat up and wiped his hands in a rag sticking out of his pocket.

"Sam's a real good cook," Bobby said, "never knew the kid had it in 'im."

I nodded, "could have told him yourself, you know," I said casually.

Bobby gave a quick nod but said nothing.

"C'mon Bobby, once we get out of here you can eat all the greasy pork bacon and fried eggs and Arabica bean coffee you want," I said, a little annoyed at the old hunter.

Bobby didn't look at me for a moment, just fiddled with a monkey wrench that lay on the ground beside him, "that coffee was decaf? Thought it tasted off."

I was about to get all defensive but then I saw Bobby was smiling.

"I just," Bobby sighed, took his baseball cap off for a moment to run a dirty hand through his hair, "I just don't like t'be reminded that I'm not a spry twenty-five anymore."

I let out a breath. That was it? That was what had Bobby giving Sam the silent treatment.

"Bobby, I'm not exactly twenty-five either you know," I began but the old hunter chuckled.

"Dean, I'd kill to be thirty-three again," he said with a wicked smile.

"What I was going to say, was, sometimes I feel like I'm over the hill," I interrupted.

"Guess it's all that hunting," I shrugged.

"Yup, that'd do it to anyone, catches up to you. Guess you wouldn't notice as much if you weren't retired," Bobby said in a sage voice.

Bobby knew what he was talking about. Although he wasn't 'officially' retired, he went out on hunts less and less and only if they were close to South Dakota. He usually stayed in Sioux Falls and helped out other hunters by doing the research parts of the job.

I turned serious then, "look, Sam and I aren't saying you have to do the whole South Beach diet thing but, at least watch what you eat okay? Keep junk food to a minimum and maybe buy some fruit and veggies once in a while."

"Guess I could do that," Bobby said in mock exasperation.

I smiled and stood, stretching my back when it protested.

Later that evening Sam and I went our separate ways. He toward the 'Big Sky State' and I toward the state that was more than halfway covered in farmland.

From the truck I phoned Lisa and told her I was on my way home; let her know I would be back the next day, hopefully in the evening.

Lisa had been curt while speaking and that annoyed me, it wasn't like we were acquaintances or something, we were husband and wife. I bit my tongue though; I didn't want to start an argument over the phone, replied as politely as possible and hung up before she did.

SPN

Castiel walked slowly through the park. The noontide sun shone down warmly, fluffy white clouds like cotton balls drifted lazily through the azure sky. The grass was a perfect, deep green of health. On the breeze the sounds of laughter and happy shouting could be heard.

The angel ignored it all, though.

Castiel was on edge. He was angry with himself.

He had told the Winchesters nothing more than a theory, a theory! He had no idea if that it would in fact come to pass, he didn't know if and when Lucifer was resurrected, he wouldn't just go after Sam again.

The angel sighed and rubbed at his face with both hands. Abdiel was still in prison and Michael still continued in his self-righteous crusade against Raphael and Belial. God was still AWOL (yet another word Castiel had picked up from Dean) and it didn't appear as though He'd be coming back anytime soon.

"What am I supposed to do?" Castiel spoke out loud. He paced around, stirring up dandelion fluff as he walked.

The angel vanished from the friendly, sun filled park to appear in the severe, austere boardroom that Michael preferred.

What you are doing Castiel? The angel thought; Michael isn't going to help you. He's as much your enemy right now as Raphael and Belial.

In the instant the archangel appeared in the room, Castiel willed himself invisible, something he had done only when watching over Dean Winchester in those months after his brother had plunged into the Cage.

Michael was not alone.

An angel that Castiel recognized was with him- she was one of the fallen angels who had been brought back into the fold following Lucifer's death: Enepsigos.

The previously fallen angel's vessel was a curvy blonde woman with platinum hair and blue eyes. She wore a strapless red dress that ended just above her knees and scarlet stilettos.

"There has been no sign of Belial anywhere," Enepsigos said with a shake of her pale head.

"Are you sure?" Michael asked and Castiel saw the archangel tense slightly.

"We cannot find him, he had simply vanished- hiding too well," the previously fallen angel explained.

"Keep looking," Michael instructed, "he must not be allowed to interfere with this."

"Yes, Michael," Enepsigos ducked her head and vanished.

"You can come out Castiel, I know you were listening," the archangel said without looking in Castiel's direction.

In the blink of an eye the angel became visible again and Michael turned to focus his sharp, blue eyed gaze upon his brother.

"What does Belial have to do with this?" Castiel asked. He was under the impression that the fallen angel wanted to wage war against Michael, continue where Lucifer failed.

Michael gave a slight smile but did not answer.

"Please Michael, are the Winchesters in danger?" Castiel almost begged.

"As of yet, no, they are not," Michael finally said.

Castiel felt no comfort in the archangel's words.

The angel wondered what Michael knew. What the archangel wasn't telling him. Castiel knew that Michael hated Sam Winchester and wouldn't flinch if the boy was recaptured by Raphael or fell into Belial's hands.

At least Dean is safe, Castiel thanked whoever had a hand in that. But his brother was as much a friend of Castiel's as Dean himself was, and the angel couldn't bear the thought of any harm coming to Sam, not after everything the young man had been through since the angel had met him.

Michael was watching the lower-ranking angel curiously. He simply could not understand why he felt something akin to love for the two pathetic humans. Michael knew the species had their uses and if Dean had given in and said 'yes' he would have let the young man go after it was over but that was not out of any affection- he just prided himself on the fact that he would be careful with his Father's creation, a tiny 'thanks' for the human's compliance.

Castiel on the other hand, treated those two humans like they were family; he protected them and genuinely cared about them and their wellbeing. It made the archangel sick just to think about it.

And now Abdiel. Michael had always had a bad impression of the angel. Although he thought Abdiel smart for choosing the winning side during the war that was as far as his compliments went. Abdiel had vanished after the battle of the Empyrean- to mull over the recent events the archangel guessed- and had not been heard from until he had been sighted in Liverpool, England in 1930 and then again when he had pulled Sam Winchester from Hell when Castiel had been forbidden to do so.

In Michael's opinion both Castiel and Abdiel (and Gabriel) were the results of not having a firm hand guiding the angels- it had been a free-for-all in Michael's mind- his Father had been gone for too long and with no one solidly in command.

That would change though, Michael thought, it was already changing.

The archangel knew he would lead his brothers and sisters to another stunning victory over their enemy and no one would stand in their way, angel or otherwise.

Castiel shifted slightly under the archangel's gaze and felt his heart sink. Under Michael's calculating stare, Castiel knew he wouldn't likely get another chance anytime soon to talk to the boys.

Castiel prayed to his Father, wherever He was, that Sam and Dean and their families would be safe.

Things were quickly spinning out of control and the angel felt as powerless as he had ever been.

Castiel only hoped that the Winchesters would not have to suffer for the mistakes of his siblings.

SPN

I felt immense relief when I pulled into the dirt driveway in front of our house. Home again. And hopefully to stay this time.

I stopped the pickup just behind Sarah's Audi and cut the engine. I leaned back against the seat for a moment. I tried not to take Bobby's initial silence after breakfast to heart but I still felt bad, like I had done something wrong. Afterward, when Dean and the old hunter had come back inside, Bobby had complimented my culinary skills and gave a thin smile. That was good enough for me. That little bit told me that Bobby held no grudge against me.

I smiled a little and got out of the truck, grabbing my cane from where it leaned against the passenger's seat on the way out.

I flung open the front door and was greeted by Faith who wrapped her arms around my legs like she was never going to let go.

"Hey, Sweetheart," I said and smoothed back my daughter's dark brown curls.

Sarah appeared in the hallway; Aaron bundled in a blue blanket in her arms.

"Will you read to me, Daddy?" Faith asked, her blue eyes wide and full of love.

I chuckled and slipped my shoes off while Faith still clutched my legs.

"C'mon Faith, let's go into the living room," Sarah held a hand out and our daughter eagerly grasped her fingers.

I shrugged my jacket off, put it in the hall closet, pushed my shoes off to the side and set the truck key on the spindly-legged table that stood just beside the closet doors.

I made my way slowly toward the living room- my leg protesting from the long drive- and heard the unmistakable sound of Sesame Street coming from the television.

I sat down in the reclining chair and stared at the TV. Faith was seated on the couch, her gaze intently following Big Bird and the Snuffeupagus as they romped across the screen.

As I stared at the show I felt my eyelids grown heavy and realized how tired I was. Never getting a good night sleep was really taking a toll on me. I hadn't had any more flashbacks (something I thanked God for) but the nightmares still held sway over my sleeping mind.

Through half-closed eyes I looked to Sarah- she was sitting with one arm around our daughter, watching the TV- to Aaron who was lying on the blue blanket on the floor, drooling all over a stuffed rabbit toy.

I allowed my eyes to close and I leaned back in the chair. I was content. At least as content as I could be. I was surrounded by my family and they were happy so I was happy. I couldn't stop thinking though, about Lucifer and Michael and if and when they'd come for my children.

Stop Sam, I thought as I drifted closer to sleep, Cas said it would be years from now so why spend all that time fretting over it. Besides, you are not powerless; you have to prepare Faith and Aaron, which will give them a fighting chance to beat this.

I jumped when I felt someone's hand on my arm.

"Sam?" Sarah's voice, slightly concerned and I opened my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked, her grey eyes wide.

"Huh? Yeah," I mumbled and straightened up in the chair.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Mid afternoon. You slept for four hours," Sarah answered.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I asked, a little irritated.

"You looked like you needed the rest," Sarah said and brushed some hair from my forehead.

"I'm fine Sarah," I said and smiled up at her.

"Just as long as I know you're alright," Sarah said and kissed me.

Sarah walked into the kitchen and I stared at the TV screen, now blank, Faith and Aaron both upstairs for their nap.

I stood and stretched, grabbed my cane and limped into the kitchen after my wife.

I sat down at the table and watched as Sarah made a cake.

"What's the special occasion?" I asked.

Sarah turned around and smiled, "It's just a little 'welcome home' cake."

"I've been home for weeks now," I said.

"Well, let's call it a belated 'welcome home' cake," Sarah smiled.

I returned the smile, at ease in the company of my wife.

I stifled a yawn and blinked. I felt suddenly tired. What was wrong with me?

Sarah had turned around was pouring the cake batter into a couple of pans, ready for the oven.

I rubbed at my face with both hands, cricked my neck and shook my head a little.

Sarah was saying something but her words were slurred, I couldn't understand her.

"Say that again," I muttered.

Sarah turned to me and her eyebrows rose, "Sam, you're pale, what wrong?"

"I'm okay," I muttered and tried to stand, knuckles white as I gripped the kitchen table for support.

A wave of dizziness hit me like a truck and the world slid sideways.

"Sam! Sam!" I heard Sarah's alarmed voice cried out as I blacked out and didn't even feel it as I hit the floor.

I think I was only out for a couple of minutes because when I forced my eyes open I saw Sarah peering down at me, looking close to tears.

"M'okay," I muttered and tried to sit up.

Sarah placed a hand on my back and eased me into a sitting position.

I managed a shaky smile, "S'okay Sarah."

My wife didn't look convinced, "I'm getting the thermometer."

I looked around blearily as I waited for her to return. I was in the middle of the kitchen, the linoleum slightly warm beneath me. What had happened? One minute I was fine, the next I was taking a face-plant onto the floor?

Maybe I shouldn't look to deeply into it, I mused, lots of crap happens that I barely understand, don't want to understand.

It was probably just because I wasn't used to taking the meds and I needed to give my body time to adjust to them again.

Sarah returned with the thermometer. I let her lift my shirt and put the thermometer under my arm. She placed her hand on my forehead as we waited for the temperature to be read out.

The thermometer beeped and it turned out that I did not have a fever- my temperature was perfectly normal.

"Help me up will you?" I asked and Sarah and I locked hands.

I did most of the work getting up, I would obviously be too heavy for Sarah to pull me up by herself, heck, and even Dean hadn't been able to carry me around (not easily at least) since I was thirteen years old.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sam?" Sarah put the cakes into the oven and turned to look at me seriously.

"I am fine Sarah. I feel great now," I said. In truth my eyes were kind of sensitive to the overhead lights, making me squint minutely and Sarah had a corona of light around her head like a halo. My stomach still felt as though it was going to rebel against me and I had the odd sensation I recalled from riding the Twilt-A-Whirl with Dean at some small town's county fair when we were kids. Hey, at least I wasn't unconscious and drooling on the kitchen floor.

The last weeks of August passed by uneventfully. I talked to the doctor in Butte, told him I had been in a car accident a few weeks ago- the reason for my injured leg (a lie, of course) and while I was there I told him I was taking Amitriptyline, Clonidine, and lithium to deal with the memories from the accident (another lie) and asked him about the symptoms I was experiencing. The older doctor informed me in an overly grave voice that Amitriptyline caused dizziness, lightheadedness, drowsiness and confusion and Clonidine, in addition to dizziness and drowsiness, caused nausea.

I thought it was strange that I was having side effects from the meds now when I had been taking them for a few years with no noticeable problems. I just shrugged my shoulders as I exited the doctor's office and walked down the hall. The doc had advised me to take it easy with my leg, not do anything too strenuous and to come and see him if the side effects from the medicine became any worse.

You knew you shouldn't have been stomping around in the barn with your leg still screwed up; I chastised myself as I slid into the cab of the pickup truck and began the long drive back to Petite.

SPN

"Why do you care about them?" Michael asked, his light blue eyes unblinking.

Abdiel didn't answer.

"Why do you care about him?" The archangel changed the subject.

This time Abdiel shrugged one shoulder, which was all he could manage.

"After everything he did? Why did you save him?" Michael asked.

"I heard things, Michael… I kept my ear to the ground. I heard about what Azazel did to all those little ones and about Lilith breaking the Seals and then I heard that you and Lucifer were… interested in the Winchesters…" Abdiel answered.

"He had committed unforgivable crimes and yet you saw fit to go against your superiors and take him from Hell," Michael said.

"The boy had already been in Lucifer's cage for eighteen months, mate. That's one hundred and eighty years 'cause I know you're a little slow with math… I thought that he'd suffered enough, huh, suffered enough for the crime of disobeying you and our brother," Abdiel said smugly.

Michael's frown deepened, "why did you save him?"

Abdiel sighed, "I was curious, really, everyone was so interested in these two boys that I just had to see what all the fuss was about."

"Gabriel even came out of the woodwork," Abdiel continued. The archangel had disappeared almost immediately after the war and they had not seen him at all until the Winchesters became involved with what they thought was the Norse trickster god, Loki.

Abdiel shifted a little and then heaved a sigh, "Look, if you're here to give me a slap on the wrist and warn me not to be bad again, why don't you just get it over with? I don't have all day."

Abdiel knew that he was not going to receive a warning but he couldn't help but hope. He had been imprisoned too long and it was taking a toll on his usual mellow, sarcastic personality.

Michael sneered at the lower-ranking angel.

"I'll let you in on a little secret: Belial is working for me now," Michael said smugly. That conversation earlier with Enepsigos and Castiel had been a little show- Belial wanted back in and although the archangel would never let that happen he had no qualms about using his fallen brother.

Abdiel's eyes widened a second in shock, partly because he didn't think the archangel would ever become chummy with the fallen angel and also because he knew that if Belial was involved Sam and Dean were definitely not safe, even if Michael had warned their fallen brother to look and not touch.

Michael smiled faintly, "don't worry, I have Belial under control, he won't hurt your precious little pet."

Abdiel doubted that. No one could keep a leash around Belial, well, no one except Lucifer but since he was out of the picture…

Abdiel hoped that Castiel knew of the fallen angel's involvement and would keep Sam and Dean and their families safe. Belial left a path of carnage in his wake wherever he set foot. The massacre at Angel Fire, New Mexico was only a small taste of how powerful the fallen angel was. Abdiel recalled seeing Belial in war, during the battle of the Empyrean he was a terrifying figure: eyes burning with hatred, blood splattered up to his chest, slashing and stabbing at anyone who got in his way, killing nearly indiscriminately. The other fallen seraphim though were smart enough to stay out of Belial's way when he came near, knowing they could just as easily fall victim as their enemies.

Abdiel shook his head sorrowfully, "what are you doing, Michael?" he muttered.

How had things gone so horribly wrong in Heaven? When had this happened?

Michael paced for a moment as though thinking.

"I am trying to rule Heaven the way our Father would want it to be ruled," Michael answered.

"And you're doing a bang-up job, Mickey," Abdiel said.

Michael frowned and stopped pacing. He almost had had quite enough of the lower-ranking angel but right now he had other things to worry about. Michael vanished from sight to leave Abdiel alone with his thoughts.

SPN

The last weeks of August slipped into September and I couldn't believe I had almost forgotten how busy my family was once school started.

Ben was in the eighth grade this year, having celebrated his thirteenth birthday on July seventeenth. S.J. though, was just getting used to all-day kindergarten. He was at the same school as Ben (it was one that went from JK to Grade Eight) and that made me feel a little better even if the 'big kids' weren't exactly supposed to hang around the younger ones. Ben and S.J. walked home after school together and although they weren't far, I still felt nervous letting them stroll along the sidewalk- I could just imagine Ben with his nose stuck to his PSP and Jamie loping along in his over-sized Spider-Man backpack- perfect prey for some sicko, human or otherwise.

But I really shouldn't have worried at all. A lot of kids walked home in the same direction as my boys and I daily gave Ben and S.J. my 'Don't Talk To Strangers/Don't Go Anywhere With Strangers/Don't Take Anything From Strangers' speech which made the oldest roll his eyes with an 'I already know all that Dean' look and the youngest nod emphatically, taking my word as gospel.

Lisa had stopped going to our councilor appointments but I still went in hopes that she'd change her mind and show up one session.

One evening in mid-September I had just arrived home from an annoying day at work- it was one of those days where I just want to throw my hands up and ask why I was working with a bunch of morons- and had just grabbed a cold, refreshing beer from the fridge to find Lisa sliding a file folder of papers across the table toward me.

"What're these?" I asked even though I had an idea of what they were.

"Divorce papers," Lisa explained, her eyes slightly red around the edges, "please sign them, Dean."

I drank my beer and didn't touch the papers or the pen Lisa had set on the folder.

"Can't we give this one more shot Lis?" I asked after finishing my drink and getting up to grab another.

Lisa shook her head, "Dean, I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to fix this. It can't be fixed… I know it's so… so why don't you?"

"I don't want to lose you," I answered, feeling my eyes grow moist.

"Don't do this Dean," Lisa snapped. Yeah, she actually snapped at me. I think she was attempting to cover up her sadness with anger.

I gave a watery sigh and gulped down a generous amount of beer.

This was it. It was over. My chance at white-picket happiness would be gone with the flick of a pen. It felt like I was going to be signing my life away.

We could have tried harder. Lisa could have tried harder. I could have tried harder.

"How are we sorting everything out?" I asked, still not looking at that damn folder.

Most of the stuff in the house belonged to Lisa and, in our naivety hadn't thought about prenuptials or anything like that, so I was concerned that I'd be kicked out on my ass with nothing but the Impala and the clothes on my back.

"We can get a lawyer to help us with that," Lisa said in a soft voice now.

"Please believe me Dean when I say I didn't want this… but I don't want my heart broken," Lisa said and took a step forward as if to embrace me.

I backed up, "so you'll hurt me first."

Lisa's eyes filled with tears and she wrapped her arms around her middle as though she was about to be sick.

I shook my head mutely but placed a steady hand atop the folder and flipped it open. I took one of the papers out and read it.

"What about Ben and S.J.?" I asked, setting the paper down in front of myself.

"I'm thinking that you could see them on the weekends," Lisa said in what was trying to be a happy voice.

Great, I thought. I'm gonna be one of those ex-husbands.

I gulped. I couldn't help it; I didn't want to believe that this was happening. I wanted to think that I was having some crazy nightmare but of course I wasn't- my wife of three years and the woman of my dreams was telling me to sign away our marriage into oblivion.

I wasn't sure I could do it. I stared at the piece of paper in front of me and hated it.

"Please Dean, I don't want this to turn into a battle where we both end up miserable and bitter toward each other," Lisa practically pleaded with me.

I grabbed the pen, unscrewed the cap and sat with my hand poised over the paper.

"Here goes nothing," I muttered and scribbled my signature along the dotted line.

SPN

I had talked to Sarah about the possibility of moving into the city, discussing the pros and cons. Mostly I was thinking about Faith and Aaron.

It would be good for the kids to be close to their school- within walking distance or just a short ride away- where they wouldn't have to sit on a bus for an hour and forty minutes five days of the week to go to school in Butte.

The suburbs would also give the kids a chance to meet others their age and they'd be able to hang out more easily.

Sarah could join book clubs or garden clubs or get-up-at-five-in-the-morning-yoga classes with the other women in whatever neighbourhood we settled in, make friends and stop selling antiques to tourists.

The problem that bothered me the most was the thought of having to look into getting a new job- of course I hadn't finished college and there were only so many people you could fool with fake credentials for so long.

Sarah though didn't seem worried; she just smiled and had said that we'd figure something out.

God I love Sarah, she always looks on the positive side of things, all the time.

My wife though, in the end was a little hesitant to move to the city- she was worried about stress.

"I've been jumping from city to city all my life, Sarah," I explained.

"I know, but, I don't want you to become overly stressed out," Sarah said.

I shrugged, "then I'll just get Bobby to prescribe me stronger stuff."

Not that I wanted to be drugged up to my eyeballs all the time but I thought I could sacrifice that for the happiness of my family.

"Let's think about it a bit more, okay?" Sarah asked, staring up into to face, her grey eyes shining.

"Okay," I answered.

That night I woke up to Sarah shaking me roughly by the shoulder.

"Sam!" she practically yelled in my ear.

"What!" I shouted back.

Sarah let go of my arm and looked at me with wide eyes.

"You were having a nightmare," she answered in a small voice.

"Ah shit Sarah, I'm sorry," I apologized and ran a hand through my sweat-damp hair.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my breathing was rapid but for the life of me I couldn't recall what the nightmare had been about.

I lay down on my back with a sigh and turned my head to look at Sarah. Her black hair hung past her shoulders, slightly tangled with sleep and her eyes were half-closed like she was going to pass out any second.

"I'm sorry," I said again and Sarah settled down beside me again.

Sarah fell back asleep almost immediately. I stared at the ceiling and thought ironically how I was the one who had proposed a move to suburbia and here I was demonstrating why that wasn't a good idea.

Don't know why Sarah worries so much, I mused, I'll have nightmares whether I live in a city or in the country.

SPN

I sat in the driver's seat of the Impala. The engine idling as I watched the front of Lisa's house. Soon this house wasn't going to be mine. I wasn't going to stroll into the kitchen after work and grab a beer, go into the backyard and play with the dog, watch 'The Dark Knight' or 'Toy Story' with S.J. and Ben. Lisa would get to stay and I'd have to find a new place to stay.

My bachelor pad, I thought not without some humor.

At least Lisa wasn't going to be a complete bitch and take total custody of the boys or something- I'd see them every weekend and on holidays… I guess that wasn't so bad.

The divorce was going to come into affect at the end of October so I still had time to scout out an apartment or something.

I sighed as I pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street.

C'mon Dean, get a grip, this isn't the end of the world, I thought. Lisa and the boys are still healthy and safe, that's what matters.

I tapped the steering wheel as I headed toward the first open house of the day.

It seemed to me that things had been going so well with Lisa; we were getting along, hardly ever fighting…until Sam came back.

Now, don't start thinking that I'm an ungrateful bastard or something. I've done so much to keep Sam safe, making demon deals and even bargaining with Death himself. But… well, when my brother was in Hell I got to have a taste of what my life could have been like if Azazel hadn't fucked everything up. I missed Sam, of course I did. Every day I wished I could go back and stop Sam from jumping into that hole or that I was in some nightmare and I'd wake up and see Sam lying in some dumpy motel bed and I'd know that everything was alright.

Having Sam stay with Lisa and I caused tension between us. Lis didn't trust Sam, acting like he was some wild animal I had brought home and was trying to tame or something. Even after Lisa and I were married I could still sense that she was not really okay with Sam- it was more like she put up with him for my sake- but it seemed like she'd never really accept my brother.

I sighed. I hated having to choose between the people I loved- that wasn't how it was supposed to work- but, if I thought real hard I could honestly say that I'd pick Sam safe and happy and not in Hell over an Apple Pie existence with Lisa.

Sure I loved Lisa and everything but, in those eighteen months when Sam was gone, I couldn't help but feel as I didn't deserve this second chance knowing exactly where my brother was- it didn't feel good to know that Sam was suffering and there I was laughing and joking with Lisa and Ben like Sam had never existed. Even though Sam had been the one to tell me to go to Lisa in the first place.

I don't know. It was all messed up and it still is- I missed Sam like hell when he'd been away and I wanted him by my side but I also wanted to hold on as tight as I could to my newfound life.

It just killed me that I had to choose one or the other- that I couldn't have both. And it wasn't like it'd be impossible to have both… it just made things a little more complicated… whatever… what's done is done. At least Sam was okay and although Lisa and I were not going to be married for much longer, we were still friends and I guess that's all that mattered.

SPN

The school year is the busiest time for the library- lots of kids coming to take books out for projects and stuff. I spent as little time as I could in my cramped office- helping students find books, teaching them the Dewey decimal system (yeah the library still used that old method) or helped Valerie and Christine clean up.

I enjoyed getting back to work- it felt good just to do something 'normal' again and I hoped that I would be able to do something like this for a long time to come.

The little kids seemed to really like me- I don't really know why- but they seemed to gravitate toward me as though they could sense that I had once protected people and who needs more protection than children?

Usually Christine would sit in the Children's Area and read the kids books by Robert Munsch, Melanie Watt or Tedd Arnold but more often than not I'd find myself being lead over to sit in the wooden chair and a book being pressed into my hands.

The teacher would just smile a little bit embarrassed I guess, as if I had better things to do than spend ten minutes reading a book to a group of twenty or so four and five year olds with happy smiles plastered on their faces.

I don't understand what the kids saw in me- Christine was the warm, cuddly, grandmotherly type- and I was quiet, serious, and tall, often towering over the kids' teachers much less them. I didn't complain though, this was definitely better than going over papers and stuff in my tiny office.

When all the students left and Christine, Valerie, a couple of other employees and I were cleaning up the two women would just shake their heads in humour.

"What?" I asked the first time I'd been persuaded to read The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Junk Food to a group of Kindergarteners.

"Those kids loved you," Valerie commented.

I shrugged; I didn't really understand it- normally people almost shied away from me and a bunch of five-year-olds had just come flocking toward me, pressing books into my hands, asking me to read to them.

I looked to Christine, waiting for her to answer- she was the one who had tons of grandkids and all the youngsters who came to the library were immediately drawn to her.

Christine just smiled knowingly, "children know more than we give them credit for, Tim."

I was slightly confused, unsure of what she meant but Christine didn't continue, she just started humming to herself softly as she reshelved some children's books.

I just shook my head and smiled to myself. I had only ever read aloud to Faith and I knew she liked it, especially when I made up voices for all the characters but I was rarely around other kids, let alone little ones.

Maybe Christine was right and children knew more than adults thought they did. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that they were so young, well, whatever it was the kids saw in me, they seemed to respond to it because whenever a group of kids came to the library I ended up getting conned into reading for them. Not that I minded, I loved it in fact but it continued to baffle me.

Weeks passed until September turned into October. The prairie wind picked up and all the leaves blew off the solitary oak in the paddock. Thomas Addison's pumpkin patch drew farmers and tourists from miles around so there was constantly traffic going down our usually quiet street. We brought out our fall/winter clothes and Sarah looked down at her sweaters with a sad expression.

"What is it?" I asked. I was busy unpacking some more long-sleeved shirts and a handful of hoodies. We were in our bedroom, the plastic bins our clothes were in sat on our bed.

"Winter just makes me sad," Sarah said.

"That's called seasonal affective disorder," I said, trying to joke.

Sarah shook her head, "no, it just reminds me… of before, you know? When you were staying with me in Albany."

Ah yes. I hadn't forgot about that, how could I? It had been a strange time of both joy and sorrow. I just didn't think I remembered Sarah feeling down last year around this time… or maybe she was just really good at pretending she was feeling happy and cheerful.

This was odd for my wife, not one to dwell on the past as I was inclined to do.

I reached out and gripped one of Sarah's hands in my own, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles.

Our eyes met and I smiled, "cheer up. It's almost Halloween and then Thanksgiving after that and then Faith's birthday and Christmas."

Sarah chuckled, "you hate Halloween."

I smiled grimly. I still couldn't shake the stigma I'd been left with concerning that particular holiday.

I released Sarah's hand and continued unpacking my clothes. Faith was a little too young to go out Trick-or-Treating but that was fine with me- I wasn't sure what we were going to do when our daughter was old enough to go out. Of course I'd be the most horrible Dad if I didn't let her go out on October thirty-first but just the thought of seeing Faith dressed up in a Disney princess costume or perhaps a policewoman or angel as she got older made my stomach do nervous flips.

I knew that thousands of kids went out for Halloween and came back home in one piece but I couldn't help but think that something would happen to my daughter if something was going to happen.

I still had a couple of years to go anyway and when Faith was young, Sarah and I would be with her.

I was engrossed in my copy of Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison when the words began to grow fuzzy and blur on the page. My eyes watered with the attempt to read and I closed them, thinking of taking a short nap and wake up before Sarah and the kids got home

My wife had taken the kids out to go visit Thomas Addison and would be gone for a few hours- picking the perfect pumpkin to carve was a chore with a two-year old.

I leaned back in the recliner, elevated my legs into a comfortable position, the book lying open on my chest and slipped into unconsciousness…

... I heard the sounds before I opened my eyes. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, music.

Where was I?

"Sam?" A familiar chuckle, "what're you doing?"

No. It couldn't be. It. Just. Couldn't.

I opened my eyes slowly and blinked in the dim lighting. I was sitting at a small round table, surrounded by people chatting and dancing.

"Over here," the familiar voice said and I turned my head to stare right into a pair of large blue eyes.

The girl's red lips curled into a smile, "you still with me?"

I opened my mouth but no sound came out.

I saw the curly blond hair and felt my stomach drop down below my feet. Jessica.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jessica asked with a good-natured laugh.

I looked around and realized where I was- that bar on campus Jess had dragged me to the Halloween Dean had shown up in our apartment.

I gulped and my eyes welled up with tears.

"Jessica," I muttered and reached out to pull her into a tight hug.

I wrapped my arms around her willowy frame. I felt her stiffen momentarily beneath my touch and then relax, awkwardly returning my embrace.

"What's wrong Sam?" Jess asked, concerned laced her voice.

"I just… I just missed you so damn much…" I whispered and breathed in her familiar scent.

"I just went to the washroom. I was gone for, what, five minutes?" Jess said and tried to extract herself from my hold.

"Sam," Jess muttered, "Sam, people are looking…"

I didn't really care who was watching. All I knew was that I never wanted to let Jess go, never let her out of my sight again.

"Sam," Jess pulled against me now, "please."

I finally let go but kept my hands on her upper arms, looking her over- she looked exactly as I remembered her.

I saw worry in Jess's blue eyes, "maybe we should go back to the apartment."

I froze for a moment. No, if we went back to the apartment than Dean would come and I'd have to go with him and then Jess would be alone and then…

"It's a nice night," I suggested, "let's just walk around for a while."

Jess looked at me curiously but nodded, "okay."

We made our way through the crowd of costumed college students drinking shots and beer and generally having a good time.

Michael Jackson's 'Thriller'came on and I felt Jess pull at my hand but I continued toward the doorway.

I breathed a sigh of relief once we stepped into the cool, crisp autumn-in-California air.

"Sam, are you feeling alright?" Jess asked, a small line forming between her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm great," I assured her.

Jess nodded and wrapped her arms around herself; she was wearing only her sexy nurse costume.

"Here," I said and took off my long-sleeved, plaid shirt so I just had a white t-shirt on. I draped the large shirt over Jess's shoulders and she gratefully slipped her arms through the sleeves.

I slide an arm around Jessica's waist and we stroll down the sidewalk, the brick and concrete buildings of Stanford looming over us as streetlights illuminate the brick walkway in circular patches.

Jess leaned her head against me shoulder and my heart began to beat quickly, happily.

"Sam," Jessica muttered.

"Yeah?" I asked as we continued walking slowly.

"Don't leave, okay?" Jess said.

My heartbeat sped up painfully, "I'm never leaving you again."

Jess shifted her head so she was staring up at me, "promise?"

I smiled down at her, "promise."

"That'd be nice," Jess mused.

"What d'you mean?" I pulled Jess even closer to me.

"You have to leave Sam. You know you do," Jess stopped walking and looked up at me with those large, light blue eyes the colour of the summer sky in the afternoon.

"No I don't, Jess. I'll stay with you, I'm not going anywhere," I insisted.

Jess smiled, "but you have to. You're the Travelin' Man."

I stared at Jess, confused.

Jess left my side and began walking away!

"Jess! Jess, stop! Please! I can't lose you again!" I shouted and tried to run after her but seemed rooted to the spot.

"Jessica! JESSICA!" I bellowed at the top of my voice and watched helplessly as Jess grew fainter and fainter until she seemed to dissipate into the air.

I closed my eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to overflow. Not again. I had lost Jess again. All the pain and anguish came flooding back as though it had happened only yesterday.

I took a huge breath to try and get myself under control but gagged on smoke.

My eyes snapped open and I was in the apartment Jess and I had shared. I was lying on the bed, staring up at Jessica, burning, dying.

Thick black smoke, like 'demon smoke' billowed through the room and the smell of roasting flesh and burning hair overpowered everything.

I couldn't move. All I could do was stare up at my girlfriend as she was killed before my eyes.

I thought that if I didn't get up I was going to die as well but at the moment that didn't seem like such a bad idea.

I could feel tears leaking down my face and I gasped for breath, the smoke taking over the oxygen in the room.

I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, death by smoke inhalation surely and felt some consolation that I'd see Jess again, at least…

… I felt a warm hand against the side of my face.

Jessica, I thought and smiled.

I opened my eyes to see Sarah's grey eyes staring down at me. Her mouth formed a small smile.

"No Sam, Sarah," Sarah said. Had I spoken Jess's name out loud?

My head was aching and my mouth tasted sour. In sleep I must have slid down the chair a little and I tried to sit up but my limbs did not want to respond.

"Where's the kids?" I asked and once again tried to sit up, succeeding this time and leaning more comfortably against the back of the chair.

"Upstairs. They were asleep when I brought them in," Sarah explained.

"All that pumpkin hunting tuckered them both out," Sarah laughed softly.

"Oh," I said and paused for a moment, "did we get some good pumpkins?"

Sarah's smiled brightened, "Faith wanted the biggest ones, of course, but I convinced her to get a smaller one… and we got a little basket of squashes."

Sarah motioned to the coffee table where an old cardboard strawberry box held an assortment of colourful turban, winter and gooseneck squashes.

I smiled and stood up, stretching and set Invisible Man aside. I looked at my watch and saw it was only ten o'clock in the evening.

"Better say goodnight to the kids and then I'll come back down," I said and Sarah moved to sit on the couch, already flipping through the channels to find something to watch.

I slowly made my way upstairs, happy that I'd be getting rid of the cane within the first couple of weeks of November. I peered into Aaron's nursery, glanced at the changing table, crib with a mobile over it, I padded over to the crib and looked down at my son. He was lying on his back, one hand up near his face as though ready to suck his thumb and the other draped across his belly. I leaned down and kissed my son's brow, smiling as he made a small mewling noise and yawned before falling deeper into sleep.

I padded down the hallway to Faith's room. I smiled at the pink glow from the nightlight, pink wallpaper and bedclothes. My daughter was nearly invisible in a pile of stuffed animals. I stepped around a fluffy white rabbit and a purple giraffe and sat down on the edge of Faith's bed. A pair of dark blue eyes looked up at me from between a teddy bear and a frog.

"Hey honey," I whispered.

"Hi Daddy," Faith whispered back.

"Go to sleep now," I leaned forward and kissed Faith's curly bangs.

"Okay," Faith smiled sleepily and closed her eyes again.

I remained where I was a few more minutes just watching my daughter sleep and wondering if I would be able to protect her.

I sighed. I didn't want to raise my son and daughter like my father had raised Dean and I. I didn't want her looking over her shoulder all the time, asking herself if that shadow across the window was just a tree branch or… something else. I didn't want Faith to be unprepared either; I didn't want her to be a victim of one of the things I had hunted just because she was kept in the dark.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and decided it could wait… at least it could wait for a few more years. Just enough time to figure out what I was going to tell Faith and Aaron.

I made my way back downstairs and found Sarah watching the black and white 'Night of the Living Dead'.

I sat down on the couch next to Sarah and looked at her, "really? Zombies?"

Sarah looked at me and smiled, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and handed me the remote, "unless you want to watch 'Bridesmaids' this is your only choice."

I chuckled and shook my head, sat the remote on the coffee table and killed a couple of hours watching the pathetic undead chase after some equally pathetic (and dimwitted) people trapped in some abandoned country house.

When Sarah and I finally made our way upstairs and into bed I lay awake for a while. I was lying on my back, just staring up at the ceiling and found I couldn't shake this strange feeling that something bad was going to happen. Which was crazy I knew. It was like the feeling I had the morning before Jonah Thompson had decided to introduce himself. I knew no one was watching me or my family. We were miles away from anyone, our neighbours included, and they would be fast asleep, like I should have been.

I hated feeling paranoid. Normally I'm not so nervous… or I wasn't at least until I came back from Hell. What bothered me though, was when I had had such a feeling before, something bad did happen.


	30. Life Less Frightening

Let me give you the grand tour of my new home. The real estate agent said that this place was great for a single person like me and although I nearly grimaced at the fact that- yeah, I'm a bachelor again- I couldn't help but agree with her. This place is pretty sweet.

It's a condo so I actually own the space instead of just renting like I would an apartment- I like that idea better.

Okay, so the entranceway has light grey tiles and a nice view of both the kitchen and large living room- open concept, the realtor called it- the kitchen itself has dark grey faux granite countertops and a stainless steel sink, whitewashed cabinets and cupboards. I managed to squeeze a small round, glass-topped table into a corner (I got the table for a hundred bucks from one of the guys I work with) and four grey-cushioned chairs to match. The grey floor tiles continued into the kitchen but stopped at the living room to give way to beige carpeting.

I had bought a dark green couch and two matching chairs. There was a dark wooden coffee table and one end table that I got for a good price. A gas fireplace with a fake marble mantle took up one wall. There was a sliding door that led out to a small balcony that overlooked the street below.

A short hallway led from the living room to the master and guest bedrooms and bathroom.

I slowly got used to being by myself again, preoccupied myself by buying new furniture and stuff for the place.

This isn't so bad; I caught myself thinking more than once as I sat watching TV and eating whatever I had mirowaved for myself.

I missed Lisa though, and the boys and, hell, even the dumbass dog. It just wasn't the same by myself.

The condo came with its own parking spot in the basement garage beneath the building but since there was only one space and I had two cars I had to make a difficult decision. I chose the pickup truck and drove the Impala to Bobby's for safekeeping.

I handed the old hunter the keys to my baby and warned him: "I'm trusting you with her so I better not come back to find her scrapped for parts."

Bobby's expression was one of complete innocence, "I'm not an idjit, Dean."

I nodded, patted the hood of the old girl and borrowed a faded green Camero from the junk yard to drive home in.

I knew that the old hunter would take good care of my car; I just hated having her out of my sight. I had gathered up a few crucial weapons from her trunk before leaving, stuffing them into a gym bag that sat beside me on the passage seat of the Camero as I drove back to Indiana.

Now I couldn't wait for my weekends with S.J. and Ben. They were the highlight of my weeks. Does that sound kind of pathetic to you? I don't know. I think it does. I mean, I was only on the other side of town from Lisa but it felt like I was miles and miles away from the boys. If I was going to see them on the weekends then I was going to make the best of it.

I had the boys for Halloween- on a Friday this year- and I looked forward to taking them around to get candy. I was going to drive down to Lisa's house and take S.J. around while Ben went off with his friends.

S.J. was very excited to be going out for Trick-or-Treating this year- he was very proud of his Green Lantern costume. He had been too young the previous years and last year had been very upset not to be going- even though he did sucker Ben into giving him some of his Halloween candy.

I planned to call Sam soon- I knew how he felt about this time of the year- and the least I could do was talk to him about it maybe… if he wanted. I mean, when I was younger, when Dad was still alive this season was always charged with a mix of sadness and anger. Dad would get kind of surly and drink a lot, I would get depressed and snap at my little brother- I still remember those days and I knew Sam did and I knew what it meant for Sam- not only had he lost a mother he had never known, but his girlfriend was killed during this time and recently, only a few years ago Sam had almost committed suicide in order to destroy a terrifying foe- so, yeah, the least I could do was give my brother a call and see how he was holding up.

I had only been living in my new condo for a couple of days but I couldn't seem to shake this weird feeling of loneliness… homesickness I guess is the best way to describe it. I mean, I had been living with Lisa since Sam's plunge into Lucifer's cage four years ago and before that my brother and I always shared a motel room so it was weird to be by myself in the place at night. I actually laid awake, listening to the sound of my own breathing and the traffic outside, trying to convince myself to sleep and stop acting like a wimp. It wasn't like I hadn't been by myself before, I had, but somehow this was different. I don't know how to explain it, maybe 'cause this time I wasn't in the mood to go to the closest bar and pick up some girl to bring back. I still loved Lisa and I couldn't imagine sleeping with anyone else… especially so recently after our divorce.

Maybe I need to get a cat or something, I thought as I lay on my back in bed, just for the company.

All I wanted though was to feel the warmth of my wife, er, ex-wife's body next to me or, heck, I wouldn't mind knowing my brother was laying in the next bed over, as though we were in some cheap motel room like the ones we'd lived in all our lives. I just hated knowing I was the only living being in the condo.

I reached over and grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand and flipped it open. I glanced at the alarm clock that stated it was two forty-one in the morning. There was no way I was going to call my brother this early in the morning- he'd still be asleep and pissed that I woke him up just to talk.

C'mon Dean, you're a big boy, you can handle being alone. Just remember what it was like when Sammy was at Stanford and Dad was out hunting baddies for weeks at a time.

Yeah, like that was gonna make me feel better.

I groaned and rolled over so that I wasn't facing the clock but I didn't put my phone away. Instead I scrolled down the Contact List wearily gazing at the names that shifted downwards: Sam, Bobby, Jo (I couldn't bring myself to delete her name), Dad (yeah, still had his number in there too), Candi, Stacy, Tammy (the last three were random girls from bars I'd added God knows how long ago). I deleted the last names and scrolled back up so that I could see my brother's name. I really wanted to talk to him. I could always talk to him, or at least he was always willing to talk even if I wasn't.

Nah, Dean, wait 'til the morning- you wouldn't like Sam phoning you at this hour to chat.

I would now, I thought. Before, well before Sam went to Hell I'd tear his head off if he'd called in the middle of the night wanting to be girly and talk about his feelings but now, I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, heck, I had been there and I had at least an idea of what he had gone through, what he was still going through because unlike me he hadn't been able to shake the memories of Hell as easily.

He's got Sarah though, I reminded myself.

But then again, something told me Sam wouldn't really want to confide too much in his wife, not matter how sympathetic and strong she was- some things he wouldn't be able to tell her.

Okay, okay, okay, I thought angrily and closed my phone with a sharp snap.

Why were my thoughts suddenly turning from me being alone in my condo to Sam's problems? Maybe I do worry about my brother too much. Sam was fine though, he seemed to be getting better now that he had his meds again and he hadn't mentioned anything about any disturbing memories of Hell to me since, well, in a long time so I was sure my brother had everything under control.

Call Sam tomorrow, I decided, after a good night's rest and have your chick-flick moment then.

I stared at the wall across from me.

Damn, it's quiet in here, I thought and closed my eyes and fell asleep. Finally.

"Hey Sammy-boy, how're you doin'?" I asked in an overly cheery voice. I balanced my cell phone against my ear and shoulder while I held the pot of Rice-A-Roni with my free hand and stirred with the other.

"S'okay," I heard my brother mutter. I could tell by his tone that it was not okay.

It was the evening of the next day. Work had been super busy and I hadn't got a chance to phone my brother like I'd promised myself I would, until around dinner time.

"Okay, huh?" I said, conveying my lack of belief that everything was alright.

I heard Sam sigh and I imagined him running a hand through his hair or pinching the bridge of his nose- telltale signs that he was upset about something.

"I'm just… ah, having some pretty bad nightmares right now, Dean," Sam confessed.

"Ronald McDonald?' I smirked and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard.

My brother's irritation with my sense of humour was almost palpable even over the phone.

"No Dean… they're about… Jess," he said in an exhausted voice.

Oh. I should have known that but I still had to try and be funny.

I poured some of the Rice-A-Roni into the bowl and grabbed a spoon and sat down at the table to enjoy my meal.

"You know it's not your fault-" I began but Sam interrupted.

"I can't help what I dream about Dean!" he said, exasperated.

"I know," I muttered.

"I don't want to sound like an asshole but isn't it about time you got over what happened? Yeah, Jess died and it was terrible but there's nothing you can do about it so why keep dredging it up every year?" I couldn't help but ask, even if Sam did accuse me of being a heartless prick.

"Don't tell me you don't think about Mom this time of year," Sam argued back and I shoved a spoonful of Rice-A-Roni in my mouth so I wouldn't have to answer.

Sam knew me too well; even then I couldn't help but think of Mom when November second loomed on the horizon.

Sam sighed and it sounded like he was regretting picking up the phone.

"It's just that… well, last night it wasn't just Jess… it wasn't Jess at all…" Sam stuttered. Something was really bugging him then, he rarely stammered unless he was very upset.

"Very interesting," I said in a fake psychiatrist voice, Freud, maybe.

"Dean," Sam grumbled, "could you be serious for a moment please?"

"Yeah," I answered, "sorry. So this dream last night wasn't about Jess…"

I heard Sam give a sharp intake of breath, "it was Sarah, Dean. I saw Sarah… dying like Mom and Jess…"

I stirred my food with the spoon, pondering this news.

It wasn't all that surprising, really, that Sam's subconscious would dig up a dream of his wife being killed violently like his mother and girlfriend.

"Do you… do you want tell me about it?" I ventured.

"No… I don't even want to think about it," Sam said, his voice lowered.

"Okay," I answered.

"Hey, uh, Aaron's six months old right?" I asked suddenly.

"Yeah, turned six months on the tenth," Sam confirmed.

"Well, then there's no need to worry, it's almost November already and well past the six-month mark and…" I paused to clear my throat, "that son of a bitch is long dead."

I thought that maybe with the coming November second being the anniversary of Mom's death when Sammy had turned six months old he could be thinking about the fact that own his little boy was so recently passed that mark himself- Sam had grown nervous when Faith had neared that age as well, just not as badly since the sixth of June held no special, terrible significance for our family.

"Yeah, yeah you're right Dean, as usual," Sam answered and I heard relief creep into his voice. I'm sure he had already realized that nothing was going to happen to his son but maybe he felt better when I was convinced too.

I smiled to myself, just knowing Sam still believed what I said made me feel good, like it did when Sammy was little and he'd be looking up to me to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

"So… how's it feel to have a place of your own?" Sam asked.

"Great," I said happily, "I can drink milk right out of the carton and take a piss with the bathroom door open and walk around naked if I want-"

"Stop! That's way too much info Dean," Sam said uncomfortably and I chuckled.

I scooped some more Rice-A-Roni up with my spoon and spent about a minute munching away.

"Why'd you call, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly.

"What? I can't call up my brother to talk?" I asked, not even covering up the offended streak in my voice.

I heard Sam shift as he shrugged, "I'm sorry about the divorce."

"Thanks," I said sincerely.

"Are you okay, Dean, really?" Sam wanted to know.

"Me? Yeah, couldn't be better," I gave a little white lie.

Sam didn't say anything for a moment.

"Oh, that's good…" my brother muttered and then paused.

"Sammy? Are you alright? You sound a little funny," I said seriously.

"Mmhm," Sammy muttered without actually answering.

"You'd let me know if something was up, right?" I asked pointedly. I didn't want to be surprised with another revelation that was left unspoken until the last minute.

"Uh huh," Sam mumbled and I could imagine his attention drifting away from me.

"Sam!" I said sharply.

"I'm listening," Sam replied in a distracted voice.

"If something's bothering you, whatever it is, you tell me, alright? I wanna make sure you're safe and happy, okay?" I said and began eating again.

"I'm just tired and stressed, Dean. It'll wear off in a few weeks," Sam assured me.

"Is this just about these nightmares you're having?" I asked through a mouthful of food.

Or something else? I thought before Sam answered.

"Nah, I'm fine. Sarah and the kids are all healthy and that's good. I'm glad to be back home and at work," Sam said, sounding more energetic now.

"Okay," I said skeptically.

"Oh, I gotta go, Sarah's going out with some girlfriends and I've gotta watch Faith and Aaron," Sam said suddenly. I could hear Sarah talking in the background so I knew he wasn't just trying to find some excuse to hang up on me.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later then," I said.

"Right. Oh, and Dean… get yourself a fish or something so you're not so lonely," Sam said and I could almost see him grinning wryly as he spoke.

I laughed, promised to get something and hung up, still chortling. Man, Sam really did know me well.

I finished my bachelor's dinner in silence. I suppose I could have turned on the radio or T.V. just to have the background noise but I didn't.

Maybe the quiet wasn't so bad, I mused as I filled the cooking pot with water to soak until later (when it'd be easier to scrape out the sticky rice and pasta mess on the bottom) and I rinsed the bowl and spoon, sitting them in the sink alongside the pot. The condo didn't have a dishwasher but I didn't mind- it was only me there during the week and having two more people to make dishes on Saturdays and Sundays wouldn't make much difference.

I felt a pang of sadness when I wandered into the living room. By now if I was at home- Lisa's home now I guess- I would be in the backyard playing with S.J. and Ben and the dog while Lis watched and cheered her boys on as they tried to keep the soccer ball out of my reach. Later when the boys were asleep Lisa and I would be lounging on the couch watching the latest episode of 'The Bachelor' or 'Dancing With The Stars'- girly stuff like that I'd watch because it made Lisa happy.

I sat down heavily on my new couch- a greenish grey corduroy thing and wondered how Sam was faring with having his kids for the night.

I'm sure he was having an awesome time; I hadn't seen him as happy in past years as he was with his son and daughter. Maybe it felt like he had done something right for a change, like something good had come out of all the crap he'd been through… I thought that was probably Sam's sentiment because that is exactly the way I felt about S.J.

Never in a hundred years would I believe that this was how it was all going to end for us. It was just that, nothing ever seemed to go right for Sam and I and that 'happily ever after ending' seemed so beyond our grasp, some illusion that I guess I didn't really get my hopes up that things would end well.

I would say that our story was more akin to a Shakespearean tragedy than a fairy tale where the heroes live 'happily ever after' but… I guess, perhaps, I was wrong.

SPN

I smiled at Faith as the door closed gently behind Sarah.

I was sitting on the couch with my daughter on my lap and tucked against me, her cheek resting against my chest.

Aaron was within sight, lying in his playpen, looking ready to fall asleep any second.

I was reading aloud from a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and it seemed to me that Faith was hanging on every word.

I remembered having to read the book in one English class or another from some school in a state I can't recall but I thought that Faith would enjoy hearing about a strong female heroine like Scout Finch.

Yeah, I know Faith was only two, nearly three, but somehow reading all those books to her, even if she didn't fully understand them just felt right somehow. If anything it allowed some bonding time between us- something we could both use and maybe it would be reciprocated in the future.

I looked over at Aaron and saw that he was fast asleep, mouth slightly open, one fist clenched by his face, the other lying low on his belly. His thatch of black hair stuck up comically around his head.

I paused, sat the book down on its spine and went and scooped up my sleeping son. Even as I lifted him against my shoulder- one hand supporting his head and one under his bum- he didn't stir at all.

Faith looked up at me with large doe-eyes. I smiled at her, "I'll be right back."

I padded quickly and quietly up the stairs and headed down the hall to Aaron's nursery.

Without turning on any lights I set my son down in his crib, checked to make sure he was in a comfortable position on his back and tiptoed out of the room and back into the living room to see Faith fiddling impatiently with the hem of her pink pajama top.

"Where were we?" I asked and sat down beside her. Once again Faith curled into me, put her thumb in her mouth and listened with half-lidded eyes while I continued to read.

Within five minutes Faith was asleep as well, head lolling against my arm. I dog-eared the page to keep track and set the book on the coffee table. I didn't move. I didn't want to disturb my girl. I just sat there with my daughter leaning against me, completely secure and content.

I stroked Faith's dark brown curls with one hand, smoothing them and then watching as they sprang back into their corkscrew shape moments later.

I felt a lump in my throat. Not the type of lump I got if I was upset but one of immense happiness. I felt pride swell in my chest like a balloon for my children. It never ceased to amaze me that somehow these two wonderful, good kids were mine, that I had a hand in their coming into this world.

I looked down at Faith's dark hair and felt moisture prick at the corners of my eyes. God, I had more love for these children than I knew what to do with.

I swallowed and the lump eased up a bit. I was going to do everything in my power to make sure both Aaron and Faith were compassionate, honest, intelligent people. Of course I knew they'd never be perfect- no one was- but I wanted them to be the kind of adults others looked up to.

I wanted them to be someone 1 could look up to.

I looked placidly around the living room, gazed at the coffee table strewn with books of photographs of Canada- the harbours of New Brunswick or Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Labrador, a golden wheat field in Saskatchewan with a bright red barn in the middle, the Rockies of British Columbia, the Northern Lights in Nunavut- or the Amazon Basin or our National Parks: Yosemite, Yellowstone, etc. there was a couple of mugs from that morning and last week's newspaper, the red and white baby monitor's tiny light shone green to indicate it was on- but silent, Aaron was sleeping peacefully then- the paperback I'd just been reading.

I slouched down farther on the couch, careful not to jostle Faith awake, and closed my eyes.

SPN

Belial waited. He had been watching the Winchesters for days now but still he waited and observed.

The youngest Winchester intrigued Belial the most- Sam Winchester- the Boy with the Demon Blood.

The fallen angel watched as Sam Winchester drove to work and back, how he interacted with his family and the people who lived in the small town he called home.

This boy, this was the reason Lucifer had failed… this human had killed the Devil, killed him! A seemingly impossible feat never dreamt of by the most daring of angels.

Belial stood under the large oak tree as the cold October wind blew past him unnoticed. The fallen angel could see the stars, like diamonds dotting the dark blue night sky.

Belial looked to the heavens and knew his brothers and sisters were up there. He knew that Michael was up there, lording it over the servile seraphim.

The fallen angel grimaced and turned his gaze back to the farmhouse where Sam and his two children were.

Belial had watched as Sam's… wife… yes, that was the word, Sam's wife pulled out of the driveway in her little silver car and drove down the road.

Belial shifted from foot to foot impatiently. He flexed his vessel's long fingers, cracking the knuckles and then clenched the hands into tight fists:

When Belial had appeared in Angel Fire, New Mexico he couldn't believe how advanced the humans had become. And only after such a short span of time.

The last time Belial had seen any humans, who hadn't been cast into Hell, they had barely been able to light a simple fire.

Belial had stared at the accomplishments of humanity after emerging from Hell and acquiring his vessel. He stared at the skyscrapers and cars and men and women wearing a wide variety of clothes to cover their nakedness.

The fallen angel had delved into his vessel's own mind in order to learn more about the humans and their inventions.

As Belial stood beneath the towering oak, its barren limbs painting skeletal shadows across the fallen angel and the yellowed grass; he allowed his thoughts to drift.

He had never been much of a thinker, more of a doer, letting his actions speak for him. Although he followed Lucifer during the war he had really been eager for the battle itself- he relished the chance to kill and release his pent-up rage.

Belial was a warrior through and through. His Father had created him to be as such. Some of the other angels were meant to be messengers or praise God or advise the newly-created humans but not Belial- he was designed with a different purpose.

Belial could not have cared less about the politics. He believed Lucifer's words, of course, like the others but he didn't look up to his brother with the same awe he often saw in their eyes.

The fallen angel had taken macabre pleasure in killing his brothers and sisters. He had been drenched in blood but he just shook the liquid off his wings and continued stabbing and slashing at any angel in his way. All he could hear were the shouted orders of Amon or Ose or one of the other generals of the rebel angels and the cries of their brethren who made up Michael's army.

And then Belial was falling with his brothers and sisters around him as they plunged into Hell.

The others bemoaned their fate, cursing Michael and the other angels. Belial remained silent- he would look at this as an opportunity- what were the others thinking? They had followed Lucifer's rebellion and had paid for their actions. Belial knew that Michael would not allow Lucifer and his rebels to win. But that didn't mean they had lost. Like their leader himself, Belial believed that it was better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.

Although Lucifer was trapped inside his Cage, separated from his fellow fallen angels, Belial and his brethren had free reign of Hell, able to travel wherever they wished within their prison.

Lilith. Belial remembered the first human to enter Hell. Her only crime was her independence and refusal to be obedient to Adam.

The fallen angel recalled Lucifer twisting and warping the woman's soul into something inhuman, evil, dark: the first demon. If God could create, so could the Devil.

Soon more and more human souls entered Hell, a trickle at first, and then faster and faster until it seemed perdition was teeming with them.

The fallen angels watched as the souls were transformed into demons, unrecognizable as once being human. The demons were smart, cunning and ruthless; they turned on the new souls and tortured them. Belial thought that Lucifer's experiment with Lilith's soul had been a great success the way it produced such results.

Belial didn't doubt that creating demons was the Devil's way of showing their Father exactly just what the humans were: strip away their humanity and they revealed their true nature. Belial knew that Michael was wrong, that their Father was wrong when he looked upon the demons inhabiting Hell- the humans were deeply flawed, so much so that it remained even after death.

Belial would have loved to see the look on the archangel's face when Michael saw the first demons. Unfortunately, like his brothers and sisters, Belial was unable to leave Hell- an irritating problem because the demons themselves could climb out to wreak havoc upon the living but the fallen angels remained trapped, their ethereal bodies held in place by what must have been a powerful spell.

Belial hadn't complained though. He could wait. He was patient. The fallen angel knew that the world would one day come to an end and he and his brethren would be released from their prison in the final days. And as it turned out, his patience had paid off- he had seen the rift in Hell, a gaping wound that may not be open for long and he had dived for it- and had ended up on a body of land the humans called North America, in a country called the United States of America (Belial thought it quite amusing how the humans liked to divide themselves up when it did not really matter where they lived- they were all destined for one of two places when they died) and had quickly taken advantage of the chaos in Heaven to venture into his own interests.

Yes, Belial could be very patient. As he was patient now, standing beneath the lone tree watching the home that Sam Winchester lived in with his family.

Belial wanted to act, to do something… he wanted to meet the Winchesters but he hesitated. Not out of some lack of confidence on his part- like many of his siblings Belial was very haughty- but because he wanted to strike at the right moment. The fallen angel had no intention of following Michael's instructions, he had his own reasons for his interest in Sam and Dean but he wanted the archangel properly distracted before making a move against the boys- Dean especially. Michael may not show it but it was no secret that he still would destroy anyone who harmed the oldest Winchester boy, anyone.

Perhaps Michael just liked the idea of having a Dean as a back-up vessel in case his current one failed; Belial thought that was probably the closest to the truth.

So Belial waited and waited and waited. Holding his breath in anticipation of meeting the two boys who interested him more than any other human he had ever come across.

Belial was just itching to play but he gave himself a shake, stretching his invisible wings out behind him and settled down to continue his surreptitious surveillance of the Winchesters.

SPN

I looked up when I heard the familiar purr of Sarah's Audi coming up the driveway. Faith was still sleeping, still leaning her small body into her mine- her face snuggled against my arm. I scooped her up as I stood and went to meet Sarah at the door.

Sarah came inside with a gust of cold October air. Her hair was slightly windblown and her cheeks were pink

"Brrr, it's really getting chilly out there," Sarah said but she smiled. She wore a turquoise turtleneck sweater and tight fitting jeans; she wore desert boots on her feet.

"Have a good time?" I asked and lifted Faith a little higher so her cheek rested against my shoulder.

"Great," Sarah slipped off her boots and stood on tiptoe to kiss me.

"Aaron's already in bed?" my wife asked as we both headed toward the living room.

"Uh huh," I muttered, "little guy was exhausted."

"Looks like Faith didn't fare much better," Sarah chuckled at our deeply sleeping daughter.

"I guess my melodious voice lulled them to sleep," I joked and Sarah laughed out loud as we made our way upstairs.

"They do love it when you read to them though," Sarah said seriously when we reached the top of the stairs.

I shrugged a little and handed Faith off to Sarah.

"You're the best father out there," Sarah said and turned toward our daughter's room to tuck her in for the night.

I shook my head when Sarah wasn't watching. I took it as a great compliment to be considered the 'best father out there'.

I loved that Sarah thought I made premium father material. I know I tried, I really did, but somehow I always felt inadequate. I know that Faith and Aaron were only little then and I didn't think it was going to get any easier once they started school and had baseball games and ballet classes and wanted to bring friends over to the house and wanted to go to sleepovers and stuff normal kids do. I just felt so unsure of myself all the time now and although my wife and even Dean gave me a positive review I still had doubts.

I ran a hand through my hair and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth before making my way to the bedroom Sarah and I shared.

I loved that Sarah had so much trust in me.

Once in the bedroom I left the door ajar slightly and stripped off my jeans and socks and t-shirt, tossing the entire bundle in the laundry hamper across the room. Clad only in boxers I sat down on my side of the bed to wait for Sarah.

I watched as Sarah entered the bedroom and took off her own clothes before slipping on a pair of flannel pajamas.

Sarah looked at me and smiled, "I know, not exactly Victoria's Secret."

I shook my head and smiled back, "you look great."

Sarah could have been wearing a burlap bag and I'd still think she was sexy.

My wife sat down on the edge of her bed and smiled at me. She slipped her hand over mine and squeezed.

"I love you Sam," Sarah whispered and leaned forward and kissed me.

"I love you too Sarah," I reached over and hugged her, "so much."

Sarah stifled a yawn and grinned at me sheepishly. I brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face, held one hand against her cheek and kissed her again.

Sarah turned her head toward my hand, giggling like a little girl.

I started to reposition myself so I'd be more comfortable when my injured knee gave a sharp twinge of pain and I froze.

Sarah, seeing the expression on my face, immediately turned serious.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

"Yeah, just my leg," I muttered, "dammit!"

I grit my teeth but Sarah now seemed more worried about me to think of anything else.

"Do you want an ice pack? Or some Tylenol?" Sarah moved as if to stand but I indicated she didn't need to.

"No, I'm fine," I muttered and could have kicked myself. Even though I'd be free of the cane in a couple of weeks- I had already started to use it less and less, only when I was at work and not at all while at home- I should have known to be careful, not go overboard.

Sarah sat back down and glanced at me, "Alright," she said hesitantly.

I smiled and resisted the urge to reach down and rub the horseshoe shaped scar just above my knee, "It'll be okay in a moment."

Sarah settled down on the bed, her back propped up on some pillows and took her book from the nightstand.

She opened up a Mary Higgins Clark novel and began to read. I glanced at her briefly before laying flat on my back with my legs splayed out in front of me.

"Do you want me to turn out the light?" Sarah asked.

"Mmm, no, it's fine," I muttered, knowing that I'd have trouble sleeping whether the lights were out or not.

Sarah read for only five minutes though and then clicked off the bedside lamp and lay down to sleep.

The next morning made it two days before Halloween. Downtown Petite was covered in orange and black streamers; Jack-O-Lanterns peered out of every shop window and leered from every stoop. I tried not to think about the coming holiday that so many people associated with candy and costumes and fun as I drove to work.

It's just a stupid day for kids to eat O Henry bars and potato chips and Fuzzy Peaches until they puke, I thought and turned on the radio.

A twang of a country guitar came on, the singer lamenting a lost love and, oddly, something about moonshine.

I turned off the radio halfway to Butte, a headache beginning to throb behind my eyes. My thoughts turned to the memories I had of this time of year when Dad was still alive. I always dreaded when November second came close. If Dad was on a hunt that was fine and he usually stayed away for a week or two, leaving Dean and me in some motel room with instructions on how to protect ourselves and a wad of cash so we could buy food. If Dad was in between jobs and he was holed up in the motel with us, it would get tense. Dad tended to drink a lot more than usual around the anniversary of Mom's death, getting more depressed and unpleasant with every beer or shot of Jack Daniels he downed. I understood that he was sad, he had every right to be, Dean too, who got really moody, his normal cocky personality vanishing as the day crept closer but me, I really wasn't sad exactly because I didn't really know Mom like they had. I think I mourned the fact that I had never known my mother to begin with- of course I never said that to Dean or Dad. Mostly I just tried to be quiet as possible and keep a low profile, knowing that my brother would easily get annoyed if I made too much 'unnecessary' noise or my father would get it into his head that I wasn't doing enough training or something and demand I stop homework and memorize a certain exorcism or practice taking apart and cleaning a gun, etc. November was not a good month for any of us and that feeling seemed to stick, even into my adult life.

I took a deep breath and forced not to think about the anniversary as I drove the rest of the way to Butte.

I grabbed my cane from the passenger side of the truck- grateful I had it with me today and headed inside, not really looking forward to a long day of work with a headache. I held back a gasp as I stepped inside the library: papier-mâché bats hung from string on the ceiling, plastic pumpkins with battery powered lights flickered from the bookcases and the check-out desk, Halloween themed books were placed on top of the shelves so they could be easily seen and I could hear 'The Monster Mash' playing from somewhere farther into the library.

Valerie saw me standing there as though I'd be turned to stone and came over, smiling. I saw she was wearing black leotards, black ballet shoes, and a black yoga top. She had a headband with pointy black cat ears holding her hair back and she had painted her nose pink and had thick black whiskers drawn on her cheeks. A long cat tail stuck out behind her as she walked.

"A little early to be dressing up, don't you think?" I asked.

"It's only a couple of days from now, Tim," Valerie smiled.

I tried to return her smile, "your right."

I excused myself as politely as possible.

"You don't want to read to the kids?" Valerie asked, sounding a little sad.

"I have a lot of paperwork that I've been neglecting," I lied and made my way up the stairs to my tiny office.

I stepped into my office and closed the door behind me. I stared at my desk and computer and chair for a moment before sighing.

I pulled off my jacket and slumped into the chair, staring at the blank computer screen. My eyes continued to throb so I closed them and laid my head on my arms, using the desk as a pillow.

I don't know how long I slept for, a few hours at the most because when I sat up my back protested from the movement, causing me to groan in pain. I stretched and stood, grabbing the cane as I went and made my way back downstairs without doing any of my intended paperwork.

There were no kids or any other library-goers on floor level and I saw Valerie sitting at the check-out desk, reading a magazine.

"Did you get to that paperwork?" Valerie asked as I walked over.

"Yeah," I lied and leaned against the desk for support.

Valerie nodded, "it's been pretty quiet so you haven't missed much."

"That's good," I rubbed at the spot between my eyes and squinted.

"Tim?" Valerie looked at me quizzically, "are you alright?"

"Just a headache," I assured her.

"I have some Advil in my bag if you want it," she offered and sat the magazine down.

I waved away her offer, "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Valerie said uncertainly and picked the magazine back up.

"Is Christine here?" I spoke up after a minute.

"She's taking today off, remember?" Valerie said, "She wanted to see her new grand-daughter."

I nodded even though I didn't remember that conversation. Whatever. Didn't really matter anyway.

I took a few steps away from the desk, meaning to go back upstairs when a wave of dizziness washed over me. I paused and the room seemed to shrink, closing in on me. I turned around and the next thing I knew the floor was flying up to meet me…

... I felt warm sunshine on my face and opened my eyes. Jessica smiled down at me, her head lowered over my face so her curly blond hair tickled my cheeks.

"Hey," she said softly.

I smiled, "Hey, yourself." I sat up and looked around. We were on campus, sitting on the lawn of one of the buildings.

Jessica was wearing a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans, grey flats with silver sequins and a grey halter top.

The trees surrounding us cast us in shade, their leaves lush and green. I thought that it must be just before the end of Winter Term- March or April.

Students moved past us along the cobbled walkway or sat on blankets on the grass, enjoying the nice weather. I heard a group of guys playing Frisbee nearby.

"Are you going home for the summer?" Jessica asked. I frowned, she knew the answer- I didn't have a permanent home to go to so I stayed in Palo Alto, rented an apartment.

I shook my head.

Jess smiled and leaned lower to kiss me. She brushed her lips against my ear and spoke, "never leave me."

"I won't," I promised and reached up to hug her.

Jess wrapped her arms around me and we both fell onto the grass, laughing, oblivious to the other students who were probably watching our public display of affection.

"I love you so much," Jessica said breathlessly.

"I love you too," I said and buried my face in her curly hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

Jess moved so that she was once again leaning over me, she pulled her hair back with one hand. Her blue eyes were sparkling with happiness and she was smiling.

"I think someone's having a party," Jess told me and lifted her head. I did likewise and saw a group of students standing around a small, black barbeque, drinking beers and talking animatedly.

That's odd, I thought, I didn't notice them before.

Jess crouched back on her heels and I pulled myself into a sitting position. She turned her head away from me, toward the barbeque and spoke, "I'm hungry."

I opened my mouth to speak when the wind blew the smell of cooking hotdogs and hamburgers our way.

"You sure?" I asked and Jess nodded, "Starving."

I stood and glanced at the partiers again. They seemed to be having a good time. One of the guys opened up the lid of the barbeque and with a pair of tongs turned over… an arm.

I blinked and looked again. My stomach dropped. It was an arm: I could make out the bend of the elbow, the fingers and thumb curled inward, covered in sauce.

"Jess," I breathed and realized that she was no longer beside me.

The breeze once again blew past the barbeque and the stench of burning flesh was overpowering. I turned away, searching for Jessica when I spotted the guys throwing the Frisbee around.

I was about to go and ask them if they'd seen Jess when I saw that they no longer were throwing a Frisbee but what looked like a severed head. Blonde hair blew in the wind and I didn't even have to look to know who the head belonged to. I felt vomit rise in my throat and I leaned over to puke in the grass.

I closed my eyes, trying to will the horrible images from my mind as I threw up.

"Sam!" I heard a female voice call and realized it was Jessica.

I didn't move, didn't want to open my eyes, didn't want to see whatever sight would greet me.

"Sam! Help me!" she began to beg and I still held my eyes closed, my stomach continuing to revolt against me.

"Please, Sam! Help me," the voice changed and I heard Sarah now. My eyes snapped open and I was lying in our bed in Petite. Before I could look away, my gaze slid upward and there was Sarah, pinned to the ceiling, spread eagle as flames licked at her nightgown and hair. Blood dripped down from a wound in her abdomen and her face was twisted in pain and terror.

"Sarah!" I shouted and fell off of the bed but instead of hitting the floor I kept falling. I watched as I dropped farther and farther away from my wife, her painful screams piercing, begging me to make her stop burning.

"No!" I shouted but the words never escaped my lips. Cold chilled my blood and my panicked heart beat in anguish.

No, no, no… I kept repeating the word in my head as I continued to fall.

"Sam," Lucifer's voice purred and I shuddered with fear.

"Please don't do this," I begged but it was useless, I knew it was.

The Devil chuckled with malicious glee and I cried out in agony as Sarah and Jessica's own pleading words echoed through my mind…

"Tim! Tim, can you hear me?" Valerie's voice sounded far away and too quiet.

"Tim, please, say something!" the young library technician's voice begged.

I tried to speak, to say I was alright but realized my mouth was full of foul tasting bile. I opened my eyes and realized I was on my side. I choked and struggled to sit up but Valerie put a light, restraining hand on my arm.

"I've called an ambulance, they'll be here in five minutes," Valerie said slowly, annunciating each word.

I groaned and spat vomit out. I sniffed and all I could smell was puke. Close to my face was a puddle and I moaned, my stomach threatening to release its contents once more.

I closed my eyes again until I heard booted feet walking toward me.

A young paramedic with curly red hair crouched down near my head, "can you hear me sir?"

"Yes," I rasped and swallowed bile.

"Can you tell me your name, sir?" the red-headed paramedic asked.

I hesitated.

"Sir?" a second voice, this one belonging to a young woman with short-cropped golden hair. I looked into her large blue eyes and one name came to mind: Jessica.

"Tim… McIlrath," I managed and closed my eyes again.

"He needs to go to the hospital, he may be concussed," the girl who looked like Jessica said.

Their voices became garbled and fuzzy as I drifted but I didn't care. As long as I could sleep without nightmares I'd be grateful.

I opened my eyes and saw I was in a different room now- a hospital room. I still felt sick but not terribly so. I raised my head and looked around, outside the open door I could see nurses and doctors rushing this way and that, patients coming and going.

I was wearing striped hospital pajamas and saw an IV line attacked to the back of my hand.

I wanted to leave but knew if I tried it wouldn't go over well so I sighed and watched the people walking past my room until a nurse came striding in.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, skipping the niceties.

"Uh, like I'd should be leaving," I said in a slightly annoyed voice.

The nurse tsked and looked over my chart.

"Are you on any medications?" she asked.

I sighed and listed the meds I took. The nurse raised one eyebrow as I spoke but said nothing.

"Can you at least contact my wife and let her know I'm here?" I didn't want Sarah to worry if I didn't come home tonight.

"Alright," the nurse said and I gave her my phone number.

I should call Dean as well, I thought, he needs to know about this.

I leaned back against the pillows and tried to decide if I should go see that GP again- he had told me to come back if I felt dizzy again.

I frowned. Why was this happening now? I had been taking the meds for years and I hadn't experienced anything like this. It wasn't like I was sick or anything- the only reason I could think of as to why the drugs were affecting me negatively now.

The nurse came back inside, "your wife is on her way now."

"Thanks," I muttered and decided there was nothing I could do but wait until Sarah arrived.

I looked up when I heard shoes rushing down the hallway, faster and louder than the standard white sneakers or tennis shoes the staff wore.

Sarah appeared in the doorway and a look of relief spread across her face.

She stepped inside and sat down on the edge of my bed, "when I got a call that you were in the hospital… I just expected the worst…"

"I'm fine, really," I smiled up at her and took one her hands in my own.

Sarah was wearing a cream coloured turtle neck shirt and a pair of chocolate brown corduroy pants. She had sensible, yet attractive black heels on.

Sarah's mouth pulled down in a frown, "what happened?"

"I… ah, fainted or passed out or whatever you want to call it," I said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Like before?" Sarah asked and I nodded sadly.

Sarah brushed some hair away from my forehead and kissed me just above my eyebrow.

"At least now the doctors can find out what's wrong," Sarah smiled encouragingly.

"Yeah," I agreed, not so enthusiastic. I wasn't sure why I was having those strange fainting spells and I didn't think I wanted to know. What if it wasn't the medication but something dark, destructive?

Both Sarah and I looked up when a doctor entered the room and closed the door gently behind himself.

"Hello, Mr. McIlrath, Mrs. McIlrath," he said in a soft voice, "I'm Doctor Conway."

He proceeded to ask me questions about my medical history. I told him the truth, as much as I dared anyway- I told him about my coma and the medication I was taking, I explained about the fainting spells (two of them now) and that I had already spoken to a GP about them.

The doctor nodded, taking notes on a clipboard as I spoke.

"I'd like to do some tests if you don't mind, Mr. McIlrath," he suggested after I had finished, "since this episode has happened more than once there is a chance it could indicate a serious medical issue."

Sarah leaned forward and gripped my hand tightly. The doctor nodded his bald head in sympathy, his bushy grey eyebrows scrunched up and his blue eyes shining.

"Okay," I said, I didn't think I really had much of a choice in the matter but at least the doctor wasn't demanding I take the tests, allowing me the illusion of being in control.

Dr. Conway said he would get a nurse to take me down to Hematology for some blood tests in about an hour.

Sarah held onto my hand, her own palm slick with cold sweat.

"It's going to be alright," Sarah said, assuring herself out loud more than me.

"Can you get my phone?" I asked, "I should call Dean."

Sarah released my hand and found my cell phone in the pocket of my jeans which had been neatly folded by a nurse and set in the bottom drawer.

I pushed my brother's number on speed dial and listened to it ring twice before I heard Dean's voice on the other end.

"Y'ello?" he asked in a cocky way. I knew his Caller ID would show my name when he answered.

"Dean, I'm in the hospital," I began. Better to get it over with.

"What! What happened? Are you alright? Are Sarah and the kids okay?" he demanded, his confident attitude vanishing.

"They're fine Dean," I answered the last question.

"And you're not?" he asked. I could hear the worry in his voice.

"I'm not sure," I admitted and told him about the dizziness and fainting, I told him I had already seen a doctor, asking him about the spells as he had checked out my leg.

"It's only been twice?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

"Hmm," Dean muttered, "maybe I should call Bobby, see what he thinks."

"No!" I exclaimed, "I mean, not yet. I'm getting a bunch of tests done today so it may not be anything in Bobby's department, you know."

"Sam, but, what if it's… you know…" Dean stammered, actually stammered, something he rarely ever did, especially in front of me.

"I… don't think it is… I think I'd know," I said confidently even as I suppressed a shudder.

At that moment, anything supernatural was far from my mind. I thought about the dizziness, the fainting, the recurring nightmares about Jessica, heck, even the flashback and one word kept flashing in my mind, somehow more terrifying than any monster my brother and I had faced before: CANCER, CANCER, CANCER.

"I should be there with you and Sarah," Dean was saying.

"You should stay in Indiana," I said, "It could be nothing… I'll call you when I get the results."

"Sam," Dean began and I heard the fear in his voice.

I took a deep breath, "please, I'll let you know when I do."

I closed my phone before Dean could answer and looked at Sarah- she had large, unshed tears in her eyes.

I reached over and wiped her eyes with my thumb, "it's going to be okay, you'll see."

Sarah gave a small, choked laugh and then took hold of my hand and pressed its palm against the side of her face.

We can get through this, I thought, we can get through anything.

The next few hours saw me being pushed in a wheelchair by a nurse who resembled a walrus around the hospital to the different clinics to get blood tests, X-rays, CAT scans, MRIs, even ECGs and an ultrasound. I didn't complain though, if the doctors did find something than the barrage of poking and prodding would be worth it.

It was early evening before Nurse Walrus took me back to my room- Doctor Conway had already been by to say he wanted me to stay overnight for observation.

Sarah was sitting in the chair provided for visitors, reading her Mary Higgins Clark novel.

She looked up when the nurse and I entered. I felt exhausted and I was starting to get a headache.

"I can handle it from here, Nurse Killian," Sarah said and the woman nodded and left.

My wife held out a hand and walked me over to the raised hospital bed. I sat down heavily and breathed a sigh.

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"I've never liked hospitals," I explained. I had spent way too much time in them over the years and they always made me feel uneasy.

"You should try and get some rest, Sam," Sarah suggested, "you had a long day."

I nodded and pulled the covers over myself, halfway up my chest but I did not close my eyes.

"How're the kids?" I asked.

"Good, Ingrid's at the house and she said she'll stay as long as we need her to," Sarah said and I smiled. I think Ingrid liked looking after Faith and Aaron since she had no siblings of her own.

I said goodnight to Sarah and finally closed my eyes, trying to find sleep while my mind was preoccupied with what Dr. Conway might say tomorrow:

I imagined him walking in early in the morning, clipboard in hand and a deep frown on his face.

'I'm sorry, Mr. McIlrath, but we've found a brain tumor and I'm afraid its inoperable,' Dr. Conway would say, looking from Sarah to me and back, a look of sympathy in his eyes as he told me how long I could expect to live.

No, I thought, no, that's not going to happen. I'll be fine. I tried to calm my pounding heart by convincing myself I had nothing to worry about.

I woke up early and looked over to see Sarah lying in the hospital bed beside me, one arm draped across my shoulder- her front pressed against my back.

Sarah stirred and her grey eyes found my face as I shifted to look at her.

"Sorry," Sarah muttered.

"For what?" I asked and rolled over so we were facing each other, an awkward maneuver since the bed was not made for two and I was still cautious about my leg.

Sarah shook her head, dismissing the question. She sat up and ran her finger through her disheveled hair, pulling at the knots and combing it roughly.

"I'm going to get some coffee, do you want anything?" Sarah asked.

I shrugged, "I'm not really hungry."

"Okay," Sarah said softly and left, walking slowly down the hall toward the hospital's cafeteria.

After about ten minutes Sarah returned, holding a paper cup of coffee. I could have easily gone for a drink too but I didn't want to piss off the nurses or Dr. Conway so I waited until Nurse Walrus, ah, I mean Nurse Killian came in with a tray of breakfast.

I ate the gluey, tasteless oatmeal and the applesauce and drank the orange juice. God, I really hated hospital food.

My wife and I waited anxiously for the doctor to return with the test results. Sarah held one of my hands and sat down beside me on the bed. I never took my gaze away from the doorway for a second.

Maybe it'll be nothing, I thought, at least nothing serious. Maybe the years of hunting are just catching up to me.

I couldn't help but think of all the times, while on a case I had taken a hit to the head or been thrown across a room or had been strangled.

It seemed reasonable that maybe my body was finally reacting, albeit belatedly, to all the punishment it had sustained. I hoped that was what had happened, instead of the alternative. God, anything would be better than the alternative.

Sarah and I held our breath as Dr. Conway came through the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face, holding a clipboard in his liver-spotted hands.

"How are you feeling this morning, Mr. McIlrath?" the doctor asked, his voice held not telltale emotion as to whether he had good news or bad.

"Anxious," I admitted, not daring to take my eyes off the old doctor.

Dr. Conway nodded as though he understood how I felt.

"I'm sorry Mr. McIlrath but the tests say that there is nothing wrong with you," he said and both Sarah and I sighed in relief.

"But what is causing the dizziness and fainting spells?" Sarah asked.

"It may be the medication," Dr. Conway said and then turned to me.

"I'd suggest getting your physician to prescribe you with a different set of medications and see if that doesn't help," he suggested, "perhaps you don't need such strong medicine."

I nodded, "can I leave then?"

"I've already signed your discharge papers, just hand them into the nurses' station," the doctor explained.

"Thank you Dr. Conway," Sarah said and the doctor nodded.

When the doctor left, I closed the door and drew the curtains around the bed so I could have at least a little privacy while I changed.

I pulled the fabric barrier aside and Sarah smiled, "ready to go?"

"Do you have to ask?" I smiled, happy to be in my comfortable, familiar jeans and long-sleeved shirt and sneakers.

"We'll get coffee on the way back home," Sarah said as we walked down the hall to the entrance, "my treat."

I chuckled and slid the paper over to a tired looking nursing student. She nodded as she took the form and signed it before sliding it into a file folder and turning to an ancient grey computer to type furiously on the keyboard.

I stretched my legs out as far as they would go in Sarah's tiny Audi and sighed. I was glad that the doc had found nothing wrong but that also made me worry that perhaps there was something supernatural involved, like Dean had suggested.

As Sarah drove I pulled out my phone and punched in Dean's number. The phone rang once before I got an answer.

"Please say it's good news," Dean asked without any greeting.

"The doc couldn't find anything wrong," I said, "told me to talk to my GP about the meds and see if he could get me something less strong."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," I said, "it seems like we were just overreacting."

"Better to overreact than underreact," Dean said.

"There's no such word as 'underreact', Dean" I said.

"Who cares? You're alright and that's what matters," he said and I heard him chewing something.

"Are you eating?" I asked, "While on the phone?"

"Yeah, so?" Dean swallowed audibly and I frowned at the sound.

"You're really taking this bachelor thing seriously, aren't you?" I asked.

"Hell yeah," I could imagine Dean smiling.

I shrugged, "I'll call Bobby when I get home."

"Okay," Dean said and I hung up.

Sarah reached over and gripped my arm to comfort.

My wife was as good as her word and we did get coffee. Well, not really coffee. Sarah was in the mood for hot chocolate and so we both got some.

Sarah smiled around her paper cup brimming with the steamed drink, whipped cream and crushed candy canes.

"Little early for Christmas themed food, you think?" I asked, "It's only the end of October."

"I would buy eggnog if they sold it year-round," Sarah said. I knew she wasn't kidding. Last year Sarah had made mincemeat pies in July.

Defending her right to bake whatever tarts she wanted, Sarah had claimed that mincemeat wasn't only a Christmas treat- I didn't argue, I just nodded and enjoyed the tarts without complaint.

I snorted laughter and gulped down the chocolaty beverage. I wasn't completely at ease though, I still needed to figure out why I was fainting which still worried me a little.

Calm down Sam, I thought, everything will be alright. I'll deal with whatever's wrong no problem, like I always do.

I was glad to see the familiar oak tree rise up in the distance, we were nearly home.

As we moved closer I squinted at the field- someone was standing beside the tree, I could see their silhouette.

"Hey!" I exclaimed and turned to Sarah to ask if she'd had one of Ernie Meyers' boys taking care of the horses.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, her voice held slight concern.

I glanced back at the tree but saw no one. The field was empty.

"Nothing," I muttered. I'm just tired; I thought and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Sarah parked the Audi and we stepped out. Sarah stretched and smiled fondly at the house. I turned toward the field again. I could have sworn I had seen someone there only a moment ago.

It was the reflection of the sun on the window, it was one of the horses, your mind is playing tricks on you, you're just tired, I told myself but I thought, when was it ever just a reflection or my overactive imagination or my sleep deprived brain?

I shook my head and followed Sarah into the house.

"Mommy! Daddy!" I heard Faith's gleeful shout and smiled as she came running out of the living room toward us on chubby legs.

Ingrid followed her, smiling, Aaron cradled in her arms.

"Thanks so much for taking care of them," Sarah told the girl.

"No problem Mrs. Winchester," Ingrid answered, "we had fun, didn't we, Faith?"

"Yeah!" Faith piped up, her arms wrapped around Sarah's legs.

"There's a pan of chocolate chip cookies cooling on the stove," Ingrid said.

Sarah laughed, "couldn't say no to that face, could you?"

Faith smiled up at her mother, blue eyes large and sparkling, her plump cheeks dimpled.

"Can I give you a ride home, Ingrid?" I asked the girl.

"Why don't I drive Ingrid home and you stay with the kids?" Sarah said before Ingrid could answer.

I was about to argue but my wife gave me a pointed look that told me she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of me driving the few miles into town.

"Thanks, Mrs. Winchester," Ingrid smiled and handed Aaron over to me.

I stood in the kitchen and watched through the window above the sink as the two women pull out of the driveway and sped down the road.

I went into the living room and sat down. Faith was sitting on the carpet, watching some children's show with talking produce that was supposed to teach Christian morals.

I sat down on the couch and rocked Aaron gently. He was sleeping anyway but I felt like doing something other than just holding him.

He had gotten so big in five months- his black hair had thickened and now he could sit up on his own. He always watched Sarah or I as we spoke and tried to imitate the sounds. He was eager to hug and kiss Faith and she would giggle and show him affection back.

As though she knew I was thinking about her, Faith turned her head and clambered up onto the couch to sit beside me. She smiled at me and laid a warm hand on my arm.

Faith peered over at Aaron and grinned.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. I relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. I always felt on edge, ready for something to happen. I knew what Dean would say if I told him.

You need to chill, Sammy. All that pent-up stress is gonna kill you, Dean would comment with barely contained concern on his face.

I opened my eyes when I felt Faith tug at my sleeve.

"Yeah?" I asked tiredly.

"I'm… hungry," she informed me. Faith's eyes were large and round.

"All right, let's see if those cookies Ingrid made are cool enough to eat," I set Aaron against my shoulder- still asleep- and headed into the kitchen.

Faith and I (with Aaron awake and hyper in his highchair) sat at the kitchen table and ate some cookies.

My daughter managed to get gooey, melty chocolate all over her face and hands but I didn't really care. She laughed and licked the goop from her fingers with pleasure.

Aaron watched us and giggled, every so often popping a Cheerio into his mouth since there was no way he was getting a cookie.

I had one bite of the sweet treat before I had to stop. Unbidden memories surfaced and I swallowed thickly- the cookie becoming tasteless in my mouth.

I couldn't help but think of the cookies Jess had made for me when I had come back to Stanford- just before she had died. After that I rarely had chocolate chip cookies. It might sound stupid, I know, but just as Dean associates pie with Mom, I could not look at one of those cookies without thinking of Jessica- she had a passion for baking and she loved making chocolate chip as much as she liked eating them. Whenever she had a bad day I'd find her in the tiny kitchen of our apartment mixing a bowl of batter and dancing along with whatever song was on the radio at the time. Jessica used chocolate chip cookies to cure the blues or celebrate- if she knew I was upset about something or if we'd had an argument I would find a plate of cookies waiting for me and all my previous troubles would slip away.

I sighed and watched Faith as she finished off her cookie.

"Daddy?" Faith asked and stared up at me, her fingers covered in drool and chocolate.

"Yeah, honey?" I asked.

Faith held her arms out to me and I picked her up. She kissed my cheek and nuzzled her face into my shoulder. Her breath smelt like cocoa and sugar.

I set her on my hip and wiped her sticky hands off with the dishcloth at the sink and then took her upstairs to her bedroom. Faith never missed a beat- it was right on time for her afternoon nap.

I laid Faith down on her bed and pulled the covers over her already sleeping form.

I brushed her dark curls away from her face and kissed her forehead.

I headed back downstairs, put the rest of the cookies into a container and then sat down with Aaron while he ate his snack.

I leaned sat with my elbows propped on the table, chin against my fists and made silly faces at my son to get him to laugh.

The next two days before Halloween passed by uneventfully. I didn't go back to work but I knew Christine and Valerie and the others could handle it. Sarah said she felt better having me stay at home anyway.

I called Bobby and talked to him about the dizzy spells and fainting. He said he'd prescribe me with some new meds that would hopefully have less side-effects.

"But I can't promise you anything," he said.

"I know Bobby," I answered.

Apparently Bobby had an old friend who was a pharmacist-turned-hunter and she knew a lot about medications that dealt with symptoms similar to those exhibited in people with PTSD. He had gotten her opinion on the first batch of meds after describing my symptoms to her. She was used to helping out fellow hunters in that way- many of them didn't want to turn to booze or narcotics to solve their problems (which would only create more problems for them and put them and everyone else around them in danger) and was only too happy to help out Bobby's 'anonymous friend'.

In the end Bobby came by the farm and handed me a new prescription for lithium for depression, Desyrel for the insomnia, and Nardil for the nightmares.

I sighed as I looked at the list of medications. Bobby gave me a sympathetic look, "maybe you don't need 'em anymore."

That was a nice thought but I shook my head, "you should have seen me when Dean and I were going after Jonah… when my meds ran out… I was barely keeping it together half the time."

Bobby nodded shrugged helplessly.

"Well hopefully these help," he said and I nodded.

"Thanks Bobby," I said and shyly ducked me head, "I mean it."

"There ain't nuthin' I wouldn't do for you… or Dean," the old hunter commented, his eyes moist.

Bobby stayed for the day, because as he claimed, "I don't get to see the grandkids as often as I'd like."

The old hunter played with Faith and Aaron, laughing right along with them.

I watched as Bobby played with Aaron. The little boy giggled and clapped his hands whenever Bobby pulled his hands away from his face and exclaimed "Peek-A-Boo!"

Faith loved listening to Bobby tell stories- it seemed that besides having an amazing knowledge of the supernatural he also knew many folktales and fairytales (which came in surprisingly handy when dealing with monsters). I wished that Bobby didn't live so far away and could see Faith and Aaron more often, it was clear that he absolutely loved being a grandfather.

When Bobby left that evening Faith actually cried. Her big blue eyes overflowed with tears and her lower lip trembled.

"Aw, don't worry, I'll come visit again real soon," Bobby said and picked Faith up in a bear hug.

Faith nodded solemnly, her small hands against Bobby's ruddy beard.

"You and your brother have to take care of your Daddy for me, okay?" Bobby said, "Think you can do that?"

Faith beamed, "Yeah!"

Sarah smiled and took our daughter from Bobby while Aaron wiggled in my arms.

"I'll call ya when I get home," Bobby promised and I nodded.

"It was nice to see you again, Bobby," Sarah smiled.

"You call me up if you're still havin' trouble, okay?" Bobby said, looking at me pointedly.

"I will," I promised.

Bobby nodded, hesitated and then gave me a hug. It was somewhat more than a manly pat on the back too. I hugged him back, not the least bit embarrassed (why would I be? Only Sarah was there to see) and moved away so my wife could say her goodbyes.

"You made a great dinner, Sarah," Bobby complemented.

Sarah shrugged and I could have sworn her cheeks when red, "it was just beef stew."

"Well, it was the best beef stew I've had in a while," Bobby smiled.

"Would you like to bring some with you? There's lots left over," Sarah asked and before the hunter could answer she was whisking away toward the kitchen to spoon stew into a Tupperware container.

Bobby and I eyed one another.

"Nice havin' a wife, huh?" Bobby smiled.

"Yeah," I said and grinned back at the old hunter.

Sarah came back into the foyer, a large tub of stew in her hands.

Bobby took the food, "you didn't need to do this, Sarah."

Sarah shrugged, "you're family, Bobby."

The old hunter chuckled and nodded, "Thanks Sarah."

October thirty-first saw me at home with the kids. Sarah was at work downtown. Dean called, asking how it had gone with Bobby and the new meds.

I told him these ones should work (hopefully) and I wouldn't have the same side-effects.

"That's good," Dean commented.

He told me that S.J. was so excited to be going out for Halloween for the first time that night.

"Man, I love Halloween, get to eat all of that candy," Dean said wistfully.

"Dean," I began but my brother interrupted.

"What, I'm not allowed to live vicariously through my kid?" Dean asked, his mood still light.

"Just remember that you're an adult, Dean," I chuckled at how happy Dean was to being doing something as mundane as taking his son out Trick-or-Treating.

"You and Sarah doing anything tonight?" he asked nonchalantly.

I shrugged and spooned some more mushy carrots into Aarons mouth, "no, maybe just watch some movies."

Dean scoffed.

"We have two little kids, Dean. We can't exactly go out and party," which wasn't true; if we wanted Ingrid would babysit but I had told Sarah I didn't want to do anything special today.

Aaron looked at me cross-eyed, orange drool sliding down his chin.

I chuckled and wiped the little boy's face with his bib.

"I think you're getting more on your face than in your mouth, buddy," I muttered.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Oh, sorry, I was talking to Aaron," I answered.

"Sure," Dean said but I could hear him chuckling.

"Look Dean, I am little busy right now but I will call later, okay?" I said.

"'Kay, have a good day," he said and hung up first.

The rest of the day went by slowly. I played with Faith and Aaron and when they had their naps I read for a little bit. I began re-reading Bleak House but soon put it down, distracted. I could not stop thinking about the person I had seen by the oak tree in the pasture. I knew what I had seen and now I was wondering who it was.

Cas maybe? Or Abdiel. But Cas had said Abdiel was still in Heaven, or at least he had been the last time the angel had visited us.

A demon? No, I thought, if it was a demon it wouldn't have just disappeared like that. It had to be an angel. Maybe it was neither of the friendly angels.

My heart rate sped up at the idea of an enemy being so close to my family.

Maybe I could angel-proof the house, I thought, put some sigils on the doors… No, I thought, how would I explain the blood? Sarah would understand, I knew she would but what about my neighbours, not that they always came by to visit anyway, but still…

I sighed. I didn't know what to do, didn't know how to protect my family.

Things were so much easier when it was just Dean and I.

Not that I would give up my wife and children for anything, anything. Sometimes easier was not better.

I sighed and decided that maybe, just for once, I had been seeing things. I really wouldn't have been surprised at all, considering I was having those terrible visions of Jessica and Sarah still. I was just stressed out because it was close to the anniversary of Jessica and Mom's deaths.

When Sarah came home we ordered pizza for dinner- a rare thing since Sarah liked cooking meals- and after eating I headed out to the field to put the horses in for the night. In my black rubber boots and a pull-over sweater I made my way across the yard to the paddock. It had been a few weeks since I had actually even come out to the field or barn- I thought it best to stay out of the way while Kyle, Ernie Jr. and Mark worked. Needless to say, the horses where excited when they saw me and stretched their necks far over the fence, nostrils flaring to get my scent. "Long time no see, eh guys?" I smiled and opened the gate and the horses filed obediently into the barn.

I worked slowly, carefully. I brushed each horse down and gave them fresh water and oats- the boys had cleaned out their stalls that morning so I didn't have to do that- and paused to sit on an overturned milk crate and relax for a moment.

I leaned against the rough wood of an empty stall and closed my eyes. I didn't plan on sleeping; I could hear the snuffling and stomping of the horses nearby and felt sure that would wake me up if I did doze off.

I jerked upright when one of the horses whinnied loudly. I had slumped against the stall and rubbed my face with my hands. It was cold in the barn- my breath turned to mist right before my eyes. I stood and stretched, moving slowly to into one of the extra stalls and brought out three thick blankets.

I draped one blanket over each horse. Duncan tossed his head playfully and whinnied loudly. Ginger ducked her head and I stroked her velvety muzzle for a moment. Marlow gazed at me with one intelligent eye and pushed his long nose into my chest affectionately. I chuckled at the horses, how different their personalities were, how they had made themselves just as much a part of my family as Faith and Aaron were.

I made my way over to the front of the barn and paused at the door. All three horses were standing perfectly still, ears held forward and nostrils flared as they caught the scent of something outside. I peered out from between the doors and saw only the paddock fence, the oak tree and the driveway as it meandered to the road.

I shrugged, seeing nothing and turned off the overhead lights and closed the barn doors. When I stepped outside though, I felt as though I was being watched. I turned to the house and saw Sarah peering out from the kitchen window.

I blew out an embarrassed breath and chuckled softly to myself.

Jumping at shadows now, bro? I imagined Dean saying and headed toward the house thinking only of spending a quiet evening with my wife.


	31. Nothing Safe

"C'mon Dad! C'mon!" S.J. shouted as he ran down the street ahead of me.

I chuckled and followed along behind, passing other parents with Trick-or-Treaters in tow. I waved to the neigbours I knew but didn't stop to the chat lest S.J. get too far away. He was still only three years old after all and even though this was a safe neighbourhood I liked to keep an eye on my son.

I swung the bulging pillowcase from one hand and watched as S.J. ran up the steps to a house covered in fake cobwebs and plastic spiders.

"Trick or Treat!" I heard S.J.'s high-pitched little boy's voice shout out and watched as an elderly woman leaned over and gave him a chocolate bar.

I checked my watch- it was only 7:30- but S.J. was kind of young so when he came galloping down the pathway, nearly tripping over his second pillowcase full of candy I had to ask.

"Ready to call it a night?" I said lightly.

"Aw Dad! Ben gets to stay out later," he whined and stared up at me with pleading hazel eyes that matched mine.

"That's because Ben is older than you by ten years," I said, "when you're ten years older than him then you can stay out later."

"Just a few more houses? Please?" S.J. begged and how could I say no to that.

"Okay, just to the end of this street though," I caved.

"Thanks!" S.J. beamed and took off once again.

W

Twenty minutes later S.J. and I were back at Lisa's place. The kid had poured both bags of candy onto the kitchen table and was now digging through the brightly-coloured wrappers.

"Hold on a minute, S.J." Lisa said, "I need to check it."

"Why?" S.J. asked, already chewing a piece of taffy.

"I need to make sure it's safe," my ex-wife said and she rolled up her sleeves.

I put a hand on her arm, "it's okay Lis."

"Dean," Lisa said and the look in her eyes accused me of undermining her authority as a mother.

"Trust me," I said, "there's nothing in there but sugar and empty calories."

If I was anything like Sam I'd probably be spewing out some statistic about how Halloween candy is only tampered with by family members intent on harming a specific child. No random person three blocks away was going to slip a razor blade in a piece of candy for an unsuspecting kid.

"That whole poison candy thing is just an urban legend," I said, "a myth to scare people."

Lisa didn't say anything but she didn't go searching for any half open Mars Bars or Baby Ruths. I knew she'd check the stuff later, after I had gone, just to be sure.

As though to prove to her that the candy was kid-friendly I grabbed a mini box of Milk Duds and ate the entire contents of the package. I chewed for a couple of seconds.

"See? Perfectly safe," I said and grinned.

Lisa relaxed.

I began to choke. My hand went to my throat and I doubled over.

"Dean? Dean!" Lisa said, "Oh God!"

I straightened and swallowed. I gave Lisa a cocky wink.

"You scared me, you jerk!" Lisa punched my chest but I saw the ghost of a smile on her face.

I just smiled and grabbed a piece of candy- sponge toffee this time- and put it in my pocket.

"I should get going," I said and kissed the top of S.J.'s sandy-coloured hair.

"See you kiddo," I said.

"Bye Dad!" he said from around a mouthful of licorice.

"Next week, Lis?" I asked.

"Yup," she answered and walked me to the front door.

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob.

"Did we do the right thing? You and I? This divorce?" I asked.

Lisa frowned, folded her arms, "I think we did."

I nodded, "yeah."

A sad look flitted in Lisa's eyes for a moment before it was gone.

I opened the door and stepped onto the porch. Lisa followed. She bent over to blow out the candles that were still burning in the Jack-O-Lanterns Ben and S.J. had carved.

"Don't," I said and held my hand out.

"Why not?" Lisa straightened and asked.

I shrugged, "just a little superstitious I guess. Just humour me. Don't blow them out until midnight."

Lisa cocked an eyebrow, "alright, not until midnight."

I smiled and fished the keys for the pickup truck from my jacket pocket. I slid into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition.

I should call Sam when I get home, I thought and headed out to the other side of the city where my condo was.

W

Twenty-five minutes later I unlocked the door to my place and flicked on the light switch just inside the front hallway. I stepped onto the light grey tiles of the foyer and shut the door behind me.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the cool metal of the security door. I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, my legs crossed. It was Halloween. Memories were dredged up- my Dad piss drunk or missing altogether, taking care of Sammy, ignoring his questions, trying to dull myself to my own pain that came 'round every year when November second closed in.

Stop acting like a girl, I admonished myself, Mom's been dead almost twenty-nine years now. It's about time you got over it.

I knew I was lying though, I knew I'd never forget or forgive.

I ran a hand over my face and sighed heavily.

I looked around my empty condo and wished I had Lisa or at least Ben and S.J. to keep me company.

Suddenly weary I stood and slowly made my way to my bedroom. I didn't bother to change or brush my teeth, didn't even turn on the light as I fell into bed, fully clothed, staring at the headboard.

I turned my face toward the alarm clock and saw that it wasn't even close to midnight yet. I sighed and watched the glowing red numbers move forward ever so slowly.

I groaned loudly, thankful at least it was Friday and I wouldn't have to go in for work until Monday- let the weekend shift take care of it- even if I was technically on call in case there was a meltdown.

You never knew when it came to a construction company- things could go from great to terrible in a matter of minutes.

I rolled over and sighed one last time, closed my eyes and was fast asleep within minutes.

W

I awoke the next day to my alarm clock blaring 'Working for the Weekend'. I shut off the alarm but turned on the radio so I could listen to the song while I dressed.

I grabbed a long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of dark-wash jeans. I looked out the bedroom window which afforded me a nice view of the buildings across the street and the road down below. Toy sized cars moved sluggishly past on a grey ribbon. The sky was pale, almost white and just looked cold.

"Hey, this is Jack McCracken on ROCK IT 176.8, Cicero's only classic rock station-" I turned off the radio and made my way into the kitchen.

I stood in the quiet condo, listening to the sound of a neighbour's door slamming shut, the muffled rhythm of country music from someone above me.

I opened the door of the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. I didn't even bother pouring myself a glass; I just drank from the carton.

I took a mostly-eaten loaf of bread from the microwave and popped a couple of slices into the toaster.

Leaning against the counter I waited for the rest of my breakfast. I looked around my condo and wished I wasn't by myself. I was so used to having someone else live with me. I wanted Lisa to be with me. I wanted Ben and S.J. to be with me. I hated this 'weekend visit' crap already and it had only been a couple of weeks since the divorce papers had gone through.

I went into the living room and turned on the TV to get some background noise at least. I flipped around the channels until I found a talk show and went back to my toast.

Damn, I thought as I smeared peanut butter and jam all over the bread, I'm gonna end up being one of those bitter old bachelors who just sits in his living room and watches bad television.

Maybe I should give Sam a call, I thought as I ate my breakfast. I really had nothing better to do. I couldn't think of anything. Normally I'd help the boys with their homework and then play some catch with them for a good few hours until lunch.

How had my life become so boring? I knew how: I wasn't hunting monsters anymore. I wasn't running for my life every single day, trying to keep my brother and myself alive.

I shouldn't complain, I know. There was a certain je ne sais quoi about living a normal life: I didn't have to worry about checking into some sleazy motel, I didn't have to be afraid for Sam- all I had to be concerned about was my job and paying my bills on time.

I wandered into the living room and sat down on the couch, remote in hand, channel surfing to see if there was anything worth watching on. I leaned back against the cushions and tried to just relax.

Call Sam, a voice in my head said, sounding suspiciously like Dad's voice.

I peered into the kitchen to check the clock above the stove: eight forty-nine.

Sam will be up by now; I thought and grabbed my cell phone.

The phone rang once before it was picked up.

"Hello?" Sarah answered, sounding as though she had just woken up.

"Hey Sarah, I hope I didn't wake you," I apologized.

"No, its fine," Sarah muttered and I heard as she shifted.

"Is your husband around?" I asked.

"I think he's still out with the horses," Sarah said, her voice becoming clearer as she awoke more fully.

"Oh, will you tell him to give me a call then?" I said.

"He's probably got his cell phone… takes that thing everywhere with him," Sarah's voice trailed off.

"Hey? You okay?" I asked.

"Uh huh, I think I'm just getting a bit of a cold," Sarah assured me.

"Okay, well eat lots of chicken soup," I advised. Whenever Sam had been sick as a kid, I would make him chicken noodle soup and it never failed to make him feel better.

Sarah chuckled, "I'll try that."

"Doctor's orders," I said seriously but with a smile on my face.

"I'll let Sam know you called," Sarah said, "'bye Dean."

"'Bye Sis," I said and hung up the phone. I rarely called Sarah 'Sis', usually if something was wrong and I guessed my sister-in-law having a cold could be added to the list. I hoped it wouldn't be anything serious- I had heard on the radio that there was some new strain of influenza kicking around. The last thing that needed to happen was for Faith or Aaron to get sick.

W

As I waited for my brother to call I peered in the fridge, rifled through the cupboards and decided that a trip to the grocery store wouldn't hurt.

I pulled on my boots, made sure I had my cell phone and left the condo (the TV still on so I wouldn't come home to silence) and took the elevator to the parking garage.

I walked over to my space, pulling the truck keys from my pocket as I went. I set my hand on the door for a moment, missing the Impala. I missed her sleek black exterior, shiny and polished, her familiar, comfortable vinyl bench seats, the little quirks that had remained since Sam and I had been kids. I missed her radio and tape player, the secret weapons compartment Dad had put in after Mom's death. I shook my head and knew that Bobby was taking good care of my baby.

He knew as well as I did just how important the Impala was to Sam and I, what she meant to us, what she symbolized. I knew Bobby wouldn't let any harm come to her while in his care.

I unlocked the door of the pickup and sat down in the bucket seat and turned on the ignition.

The truck rumbled, an unpleasant growl, unlike the Impala with her husky purr. I closed the door and reversed out of the parking spot, eyes on my rearview mirror.

I exited the garage and drove the two blocks to the grocery store. I kept checking my cell phone waiting with unusual anxiety for Sam to call.

C'mon Sammy, call me already! I thought, uncharacteristically worried that my brother hadn't yet called me back.

I was just deciding which brand of milk I wanted to get when my cell phone vibrated in my pocket and 'Smoke on the Water' chimed loudly.

"Sam! Where were you?" I demanded when I saw the caller ID.

"In the barn with the horses," Sam answered slowly.

"Why didn't you call me right away when Sarah told you…? She did tell you, right?" I asked.

"I just came inside… I'm using the house phone… can't find my cell," Sam explained.

"Oh, well hopefully it turn up," I said, "how're you doing?"

"Didn't we have this conversation a few days ago?" Sam asked but he didn't sound annoyed or anything.

"Well tomorrow is the anniversary, you know?" I argued.

"Are you going to call me then, too?" Sam asked, irritation flowing into his voice now.

"I don't know, maybe," I said.

"Don't bother, Dean. I don't need you babying me every second of my life," Sam grumbled angrily.

I frowned. What was going on? Sam hadn't acted like this when I had called before.

"Hey! I'm sorry you feel that way but it is the day Mom died… and I'd assume you'd be thinking about Jessica!" I snapped.

"I don't know why I'm supposed to be sad about some woman I didn't even know! And I'm married now so I can't be thinking of Jess all the time! They're both best forgotten, there's nothing I can do for them now anyway," Sam said and I opened my mouth, shocked that he was saying these things.

"What's your problem Sam? Someone spit in your Corn Flakes this morning? She was your mother and you just write her off like she was some one-night-stand with Dad! Jess! God, for a year you wouldn't shut up about her! How guilty you felt about her death! You even promised to kill the son of a bitch who murdered her! What happened to all that? Are you just gonna forget about them now that you've got a new family?" I exclaimed, still standing in front of the milk and earning nervous glances from fellow shoppers.

"Are you too good for them? Is that it? They're dead and you can't be bothered to give them a second thought anymore? Do their deaths mean nothing to you?" I said and grabbed a jug of milk without looking at it.

"Fuck you Dean, I don't need you giving me lectures about writing girls off," Sam retorted.

"And what about me? Are you too good for me now? You gonna just stop calling because I'm not worth anything to you anymore?" I stormed down the bread aisle and grabbed a loaf without checking its expiry date.

"Maybe I will Dean, because you can't seem to leave me alone and let me live my own life," Sam said, "You're always sticking your nose into my business."

"Go right ahead, Sammy, stop calling and see how that works out for ya!" I said and headed toward the checkout line.

"I've always hated you Dean, did you know that? You were always better than me and you never let me forget it," Sam began, sounding like he was practically seething.

"What are you talking about?" I began but Sam interrupted.

"You were the better hunter and Dad knew it," Sam said, "you could do no wrong, could you? But when it came to me, oh, I was always the screw-up! Couldn't do target practice, was terrible at self-defense, and I always ended up doing the shitty research jobs because I wasn't good at anything else!"

"You did the research because you liked it! And how was Dad supposed to take a nine-year-old to go hunt a werewolf or a poltergeist?" I asked standing in line to buy my groceries while people stared at me.

"You always remind me that I'm second best to you Dean!" Sam exclaimed.

I had no idea he had taken that whole 'world's second best hunter' thing out of proportion. I was under the impression it was a running joke, like the 'Bitch' and 'Jerk' thing.

I bit my lip as Sam continued to rant.

"I was the strung-out demon blood junkie. I was the one who killed Lilith and released Lucifer. I was the one always lying to you, you couldn't trust me!" Sam growled.

"I was always a burden to you, wasn't I? You just wanted to run around and screw every pretty girl you saw but you couldn't 'cos I was there, I was the one to remind you about our job!" Sam said.

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. Was this really how Sam felt? Why didn't I see it before?

"I bet you were happy that I was at Stanford, eh? I bet you loved it, just you and Dad, didn't have to look out for me all the time-" I couldn't take any more of this.

"Stop Sam. Just stop for one minute," I said and set my groceries on the conveyer belt.

"Now you listen to me: I don't know what the hell has gotten into you but you can shut up for all I care. I don't want to hear about this," I said, "I'm not gonna stand here and listen to you insult me or Dad or Mom."

"If that's the way you really feel than fine. Fuck you very much Sam and goodbye 'cause you won't be hearing from me again," I said and closed my phone before Sam could say any more.

I looked apologetically at the cashier as she rang my groceries through.

SPN

I couldn't find my cell phone for the life of me.

"Is it in your coat?" Sarah asked as I dug through the laundry hamper.

"I already checked my coat. Twice," I grumbled.

"Just use the house phone," Sarah suggested.

"That doesn't help find my cell though!" I snapped, unintentionally.

I straightened up and patted my jeans' pockets as though I might have missed my phone in one of those.

"You didn't see it last night did you?" I asked Sarah.

She shook her head.

"Damn it!" I swore and looked around the bedroom as if the phone would magically appear on the dresser if I looked hard enough.

I looked toward Sarah when I heard Aaron start crying from down the hall.

"I'll go get him," Sarah said and walked toward Aaron's nursery.

I turned over the bed sheets, knowing logically that my phone wouldn't be in the bed but checking anyway.

"Dadadada," I heard Aaron's voice and looked up to see him in Sarah's arms.

I gave him a cursory smile, "hey buddy," and ducked down to shift through the clothes in my dresser.

"It's not like your phone grew legs and walked away Sam," Sarah said, "maybe you dropped it while you were in the barn."

I paused. That seemed likely.

"I'll be right back," I said and briefly gripped Aaron's tiny hand in mine.

My son giggled, dark brown eyes sparkling with happiness.

I went downstairs and shrugged on a flannel coat, slipped my feet into my rubber boots and stepped outside. It was cold, my breath plumed out like fog in front of me as I made my way toward the barn.

Frost-covered grass crunched underfoot and a dark grey sky glowered down, threatening a snow storm.

I could make out the forms of the horses in the paddock, shaggy in their winter coats.

The old barn loomed large and bright against the horizon as I made my way across the lawn toward it.

I paused to open the barn doors wide and stopped when I saw something shine on the white-laced grass.

I bent down and scooped up my cell phone. It had been sitting just beside the barn doors. I flipped it open and saw that it was still on and I watched as the reception bars appeared on the screen.

"Huh," I muttered, thinking that I must have dropped it when I was letting the horses out earlier.

I brushed pieces of clinging grass off the phone and put it in my jacket pocket.

I turned to walk back to the house when I saw something out of the corner of my eye near the oak tree in the paddock. I whipped my head around, sure I had seen a figure, but when I tried to get a closer look I only saw Marlow cropping at the tough winter grass there.

I blinked and shook my head wearily. There was nothing there.

You're just seeing things, I thought. It's probably just a habit from my days as a hunter, being hyper vigilant or it could also be from the Post-Traumatic Stress.

Whatever it was, whatever I had seen was gone and I didn't dwell on it.

Faith ran over to me as I entered the front hall.

I laughed and hugged her, "I was only gone for five minutes… and you were supposed to be asleep."

"I'm not sleepy anymore, Daddy," Faith said and held her arms out to be picked up.

I lifted my daughter up and she hugged me round the neck.

I raised a hand and set it on my daughter's warm, dark curls. I carried Faith into the living room and with a free hand turned on the TV and flipped to a children's channel.

"Hey, why don't you watch 'Clifford'?" I said and set my daughter down on the couch were she immediately scooted to the edge, eyes locked onto the Big Red Dog.

Sarah came down the stairs with Aaron in her arms.

"Found my phone," I told her and held up the device.

Sarah smiled, "I told you it had to be in the barn. See, I'm always right."

I took Aaron from my wife and kissed Sarah, "I think maybe you are psychic."

"Hmm more like a woman's intuition," Sarah said, eyes half-closed.

"Or you just know me too well," I said and bounced my son lightly in my arms.

"You hungry?" Sarah asked and I nodded.

"Faith, come and have breakfast!" Sarah called to our daughter who immediately slipped off the couch and followed her mother into the kitchen.

"I want Lucky Charms!" Faith exclaimed and climbed onto her chair.

I looked at Sarah from over my shoulder, "I'll be right there, just wanna call Dean before he alerts the FBI 'cos I haven't phoned him back yet."

I went over to the house phone and dialed Dean's cell phone number. It rang once, twice, three times and then cut off. No dial tone. Nothing.

I looked questioningly at the phone and tried to call back.

Instead of ringing, the phone went straight to voicemail: "This is Dean, if you're calling about what I think you are, forget it, I'm retired… but leave me a message and I'll give you the name of a good exterminator I know…"

I stared at the phone. I never got his voicemail. Never. Dean always picked up when he saw it was me on the caller ID.

I tried once again and got the same voicemail. I frowned. I had told Dean he should just have made a normal message, but he had insisted. He hadn't wanted an innocent to just hang up and call some two-bit psychic who thought they could cleanse a house with some incense and crystals. He hadn't wanted to see some poor soul killed because an uneducated priest thought a demon could be exorcised by reciting the Bible.

Maybe Dean was busy and couldn't answer. But that didn't really make sense: he had been the one to call me! I was calling him back like he'd asked!

I grumbled, frustrated and a little annoyed at my brother and hung up the phone.

He can call me back then; I thought stubbornly and headed into the kitchen to join my family.

I sat down at the kitchen table and laughed as Faith dug her spoon greedily into her favourite cereal only seconds after Sarah had poured milk into the bowl.

Aaron was already in his high chair.

"Do you want me to feed Prince Charming?" Sarah asked, a plastic bowl of oatmeal in her hand.

"I can do it," I said and took the bowl from her and grabbed a spoon from one of the drawers.

"Did you get a hold of Dean?" Sarah asked as she sipped from a mug of coffee.

I rolled my eyes, still a little confused by the whole situation, "no, I got his voicemail. I'll try again later. Maybe he got called into work."

I turned my attention to Aaron who was waving his arms around, mouth open for his breakfast.

"Dada!" Aaron shrieked, sounding cross when I didn't get the spoonful of oatmeal to his mouth fast enough.

"Sorry, Bud," I apologized and fed Aaron some oatmeal.

While my son gummed away at the food, I ate my own breakfast: Lucky Charms I'd poured into a bowl with some milk I'd splashed in.

"Daddy, Lucky Charm're mine," Faith said in a slightly annoyed voice.

Sarah frowned slightly, "what have you been told about sharing?"

"Gotta share, Mommy," Faith beamed, proud that she'd remembered.

"I'll buy you some more when I go shopping," Sarah assured our daughter.

I scooped some more oatmeal up for Aaron and concentrated on getting the food into his mouth rather than on his bib.

Aaron laughed, the oatmeal dribbling out of his mouth and onto the plastic tray of the high chair.

I sighed and grabbed a napkin to clean the mess up.

"Would you give Aaron a bath when you've finished feeding him?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, sure," I said, and gave Aaron more food, which he actually ate this time.

"That's good, eh? Nothing sticks to your ribs better than oatmeal," I said in a slightly high-pitched voice that made Aaron laugh.

Sarah chuckled and picked up her and Faith's dirty dishes. Our daughter jumped off her chair and made a beeline for the living room. I heard the TV turn on and the distinct sounds of 'The Magic School Bus' filtered through to the kitchen.

"Faith's going to be a genius when she's older, watching shows like that," Sarah mused.

I nodded with a smile, "so are you thinking Harvard or Yale?"

Sarah chuckled and shook her head, "I'm hoping for Princeton, personally."

I laughed and looked at Aaron, "and what about you, hm?"

My son stared at me for a moment, large dark brown eyes full of joy and then he waved his arms around, "Dadadadada!"

I fed him the last of the oatmeal and handed the dishes to Sarah.

"C'mon little guy, let's get you a bath," I said as I lifted Aaron from his high chair, took off his bib and held him so that he could peer over my shoulder.

"Mamama," Aaron said as we left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

"I can tell that you're going to be a man of many words," I joked as I climbed the stairs.

Aaron squealed with delight as though he understood exactly what I had just said.

I stepped into Aaron's nursery and grabbed some clean clothes for him- a light blue pair of footie pajamas with a smiling, cartoonish whale on the front- and set Aaron on the change-table so I could undress him easier than I would have been able to in the bathroom.

Aaron whimpered at the temperature difference when he was clad only in a diaper.

"I know buddy, we'll be in the bathroom soon," I muttered and made my way down the hall.

Holding Aaron in one arm and using my free hand I turned on the tap and waited for the water to be just right- not too hot and not too cold. I took Aaron's diaper off and set it aside for the garbage later and held my son carefully in the water so that his head was cradled against my forearm, his face well above the surface.

Although Aaron could sit up by himself now, he couldn't do so for more than a few minutes at a time and I felt more comfortable holding him securely in the few inches of water as I had done when he had been very young.

I took hold of the soft washcloth sitting nearby on the edge of the tub and soaked it with water. Aaron's smiled and giggled happily, tiny fist splashing the water excitedly.

I couldn't help but grin as Aaron stared up at me happily. I don't think I'd ever known a baby who liked baths so much. Faith wasn't big on them, ever since she was a baby she'd scream and cry as soon as she touched the water, and now she's make Sarah or I chase her around the house before she'd go near the bathtub.

Aaron kicked his feet in the warm water and laughed loudly as he splashed my face and shirt.

I shook my head and used my free hand to brush my bangs away from my eyes.

"What? You think I need a bath too?" I asked.

Aaron cocked his head to the side as though trying to figure out his answer and then he giggled, "Dada dadada."

"Is that so?" I said smiling.

After the bath I carefully picked Aaron up and wrapped him in a clean white towel. Aaron shrieked with delight and wiggled around as I dried him off.

I grabbed a clean diaper and made to put it on him when Aaron decided he couldn't wait and promptly peed all over the towel… and me.

Aaron stared at me for a second, as though waiting for my reaction, and then he giggled at the look on my face.

I couldn't help but laugh. I just went with it, grabbed Aaron's clean clothes, the diaper and headed to the nursery so I could change him easier.

Aaron squirmed as I put a fresh diaper and clean pajamas on him.

"How's that feel?" I asked Aaron and picked him up.

I was walking down the stairs with my son in my arms when the phone rang.

I heard Sarah answer it and then call out to me, "Sam, it's for you! It's Dean!"

"Okay," I answered and made my way into the living room where Sarah stood holding the phone out to me.

I kept a hold of Aaron and took the phone, "Hello?"

Dean was probably pissed I hadn't called him back immediately. Well, it wasn't my fault he didn't answer his cell.

I heard my brother breathing on the other end but he didn't say anything.

"Dean?" I asked curiously.

"Why are you here, Sam?" Dean asked and my brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" I asked, "What are you talking about?"

Dean didn't answer but continued, "You must know because I for one am stumped."

I looked at the phone. What was Dean playing at?

"Dean-" I began but he snapped, cutting me off.

"Everything was fine before you came back! I had Lisa and Ben! I was happy and then you came back and ruined it all!"

I blinked, "Uh… Dean, what's wrong?"

Why was Dean angry at me for something I had no control over? Why was Dean angry now for something that had happened years ago?

"I was happy, Sam, happy! Do you understand? And then you had to come back and destroy the only good thing in my life!" Dean accused.

I lifted Aaron up a little higher and looked at him for a moment as though he could tell me why my brother was suddenly having a meltdown.

"Why couldn't you have stayed away?" Dean asked, "Why couldn't you leave me alone?"

I frowned, "Dean, I had to see you… I had to know if you were okay…"

I knew what he was talking about. He was angry about my mysterious appearance in Stull Cemetery. He was questioning my miraculous resurrection.

"I didn't want to see you! I got over it! I was moving on! Don't you understand? I didn't want you anymore!"

The words tore into me, a sliver of sadness pierced my heart and I gasped audibly.

"Why?" I whispered, unable to make my voice any louder.

"You were always a burden, Sam. It was always, 'look after your brother' or 'protect Sammy'. Dad wouldn't let me be a kid because I always had to keep you safe," Dean practically snarled, "his goddamn precious golden boy."

I felt tears prick the corner of my eyes and a lump grow painfully in my throat.

"I was glad when you went away to Stanford- finally you'd be out of my life- and you were, for almost four glorious years it was just me and Dad like it should have been," Dean continued, unaware of my emotions.

"Dean…please," I began but almost choked on the words.

I looked up as Sarah came into the room as though she could sense my distress. She stood behind the couch, her arms crossed over her chest and a concerned and confused expression on her face. I motioned to my wife to take Aaron and she took my son into her own arms.

"Then Dad disappeared and I had to see you, had to get your help because no one else would look for him," Dean said.

"What's happening?" I asked Dean.

I could almost hear my brother sneer at me over the phone, "You were always weak Sam."

"You got Jessica killed like you got Mom killed," he said with relish as though he'd been waiting a long time to say those words.

I felt the tears in my eyes well up, ready to overflow at the thought of Jess.

"It was an accident… I tried to save her Dean, I tried… to…" I stammered; the old scar opening up as I remembered Jess's death as though it had happened only yesterday.

I didn't even mention that I had only been six months old when Mom had been murdered and her death had been in no way my fault but I couldn't say the words.

"You lied to me, all the time; you could care less about anyone else. You lied about your visions and you lied about Ruby and the demon blood, and you released Lucifer," Dean said and all those memories resurfaced.

I wasn't sure why I was still on the phone, why I didn't just hang up on my brother, why I let him talk to me like that but I did. I think I was in shock.

"You're really fucked up, Sam. You're as messed up as anyone can get," Dean told me, "and I worry about Sarah and the kids. I mean, hell, after everything you've done, after all the people you killed, I'd be afraid to live in the same house as you."

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

"I think you were better off dead, Sambo," Dean said ruthlessly.

Sambo? Dean never ever called me that. What was that?

"You should have stayed where you were," Dean said in a deadly voice, "that's what you deserve. You should have stayed in Lucifer's Cage and if I ever find the guy who hauled your ass out I'll beg him to stick you back in there."

"No," I whispered, the first word I had spoken in minutes.

"I want you out of my life, Sam, for good. Don't call me anymore and don't come near me or I'll call the police and tell them all the horrible things you've done," he returned.

Before Dean could say another word Sarah grabbed the phone from my numb fingers and spat at my brother.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean Winchester? Who are you to talk to Sam like that? You know what I think? I think you can go to Hell you sonuvabitch!" She practically screeched and slammed the phone down on the receiver.

Sarah looked at me and nodded. Her hair had gone frizzy and she had red spots high on her cheeks. Her grey eyes were brighter than usual.

"I could tell he was saying some pretty nasty things to you," Sarah said and wiped my face with her hand. I was unaware that I had tears streaming down my face.

I shook my head and rubbed my face with my sleeve.

"That wasn't Dean," I said.

Sarah looked at me quizzically, "not Dean?"

I nodded, "There's no way, no way Dean would ever say those things to me. I know Dean and I know he doesn't feel that way about me."

I remembered the look on my brother's face when he had shown up at that hospital in Patterson, Indiana all those years ago after I'd been attacked by that demon. There was no way Dean could have said what he had on the phone after what his expression had said when he saw me, back from the dead after eighteen months in Hell- it must have taken all my brother's willpower to keep himself from breaking down- it was impossible that the Dean who had insisted I stay with him and Lisa and Ben until I recovered was the same Dean who had just told me I should be in Lucifer's Cage right now.

"But, Sam… if it wasn't Dean than who could it be?" Sarah asked; looking worried now.

"I don't know, but I know for certain that it wasn't my brother," I said firmly. I recalled the look of joy, relief, grief and longing in Dean's eyes as he had stared at me from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as though he didn't trust his legs to hold him up. I am sure that the same look was mirrored in my own eyes as I stared the brother I thought I'd never see again.

"Why would someone do that? Who would do that?" Sarah asked and I shook my head again.

"I'm gonna take a shower, Aaron missed his diaper," I said and Sarah gave a small smile and she nuzzled her face against Aaron's cheek.

SPN

I stormed out of the grocery store, still fuming over my phone conversation with my brother. I could not believe he'd ever say such things about Jessica or Mom. Or Dad or me for that matter. What had happened to my polite, mild-mannered, overemotional Sammy?

Maybe he's just having a bad day, I thought but then scowled. Even on the worst days my brother would never go off the deep end and spit out such venomous comments like that.

I stepped off the curb and into the huge parking lot. The sky had opened up while I had been inside and now large, wet flakes of snow that was more like rain coated everything in slush.

"Damn," I muttered, cursing my idea to park far away from the exit.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket frantically and 'Smoke on the Water' trilled out urgently.

I dug the cell out and glanced at the Caller ID. It was Sam.

Probably wants to rant some more on how great his new family is, I thought bitterly and rejected the incoming call. I paused long enough to turn off the phone altogether and made my way across the lot toward my pickup.

As I slipped in the mushy snow some guy, equally tripped up by the weather, accidentally bumped into me.

"Hey!" I barked out irritably but the man was already making his way toward the entrance of the store.

"Whatever," I muttered and made it to my truck without falling.

I just wanted to get back to my condo and sit on my ass and watch TV and not think about my idiot brother.

W

The drive back to my condo was treacherous- the roads made slippery with slush and I almost fishtailed a couple of times.

"Goddamn shitty weather," I muttered as I almost hydroplaned into the opening of the parking garage, "mirrors my mood perfectly."

I took the stairs up to the entrance hall of the building and squeezed into the elevator with a bunch of my neighbours.

As the lift traveled up to the floor where my condo was on I wrinkled my nose in disgust as the scent of someone's fart wafted over from somewhere to the right of me- in the direction of a Mr. Lenny Kramer.

I glared at the fatass and couldn't get out of the elevator fast enough.

Man, I know everyone lets out a little gas now and then but really, in the crowded elevator? What was he thinking?

Once inside my condo I set the grocery bags down on my kitchen table and leaned against the counter. I ran a hand through my hair and then over my face.

"Damn it Sam, what's the matter with you? Is it your time of the month?" I muttered, not really with any humour.

I didn't want to be on bad terms with my brother, especially after everything that had happened, after all the arguments we had had recently- the one that came to mind was the fight over Sam lying to me about still taking meds for PTSD.

Sure, I had gotten over it and although it still stung that my brother hadn't confided in me about his continued illness, I guessed I could understand where he was coming from. Besides, it was all water under the bridge and all of that crap.

But now Sam was bad-mouthing Jessica and Mom? I know Sam never had a chance to really meet Mom but I mean, she was his mother and that had to count for something. It was just so unlike my brother to say something like that, even if he hated someone's guts, he would be polite about it. That's the Sammy I knew and loved- my little brother who never said anything bad about anybody, even the enemy because that was just the way he was. Sam didn't have to insult or put someone down because if he didn't like you, you knew right away- he just wouldn't give you the time of day, but he'd never say anything against someone. Unlike myself. I threw out insults and snide remarks like the damn things were made of confetti. But not Sam. He had always been a good guy, always polite to everyone and if he didn't like someone, he just wouldn't say anything at all. I guess he'd really taken the adage 'if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all' to heart.

After the phone call though, Sam was acting like someone else. A stranger. That wasn't my brother, it couldn't be.

"Invasion of the Body Snatchers or what?" I muttered to myself and began unpacking the groceries, mostly so the milk wouldn't spoil.

Once all the groceries were away I shoved my hands in my pockets and frowned. My cell phone wasn't where I had left it.

I checked my back pockets but my cell phone wasn't there either.

Great, I thought, I probably left it in the truck. I just hoped I hadn't dropped it in the grocery store parking lot to soak in the slush.

Grumbling, I exited my condo and took the stairs down to the parking garage.

I was really getting frustrated with everything- the divorce and my brother acting like an asshole- and I wondered why couldn't things be as they used to be?

Everything changes, Dean, I thought, you know that. People change.

Screw changes, I countered silently, why does everyone have to change?

I threw open the door to the parking garage and stomped past the rows of cars to my pickup truck.

I unlocked the door and peered inside, at the foot well, the space in between the front seats, the glove compartment. Hell, I even checked in the tiny area behind the front seats that for some reason someone decided a person could fit into. But I didn't see any cell phone. I reached into the coffee-holder between the front passenger and driver's seats and took out a handful of toffees that were in there.

I closed the door and looked around on the pavement, thinking maybe the phone had fallen out of my pocket and underneath the truck.

Shit, I thought as all I saw were gobs of dried bubblegum and the occasional cigarette butt even though smoking was strictly prohibited.

"Fuck!" I swore and kicked the car beside me. A high-pitched screech of the alarm echoed around the garage and I made my way back toward the stairs as the blaring continued behind me.

The only thing that would make my day better would be getting evicted from my apartment; I thought bitterly and climbed the stairs two at a time.

I stumbled into my condo and threw my keys into the living room. I reached up and ran both hands through my hair in frustration.

I stepped into the kitchen, only looking for a beer, when I paused. My cell phone was sitting in the middle of the table as though it had always been there.

"Damn it," I muttered and scooped up the cell, slipping it into my pocket. I must have set it on the table and didn't see it when I was unpacking the groceries.

I sighed in relief and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, popped the cap off and guzzled down half its contents.

At least something is going right for me today; I thought and wandered into the living room.

After retrieving my keys from where they'd landed I sat on the couch and turned on the TV.

SPN

Castiel pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in frustration. Michael was keeping him close by, watching his every move it seemed.

Castiel could not help but worry constantly about the Winchesters. He didn't know the archangel's plans but he knew that if Michael had his way both boys, especially Sam, would be in extreme danger.

There had been no news on Raphael and the consensus was that he was still trying to resurrect Lucifer.

At least he will be occupied for a long while, Castiel thought grimly, knowing it would most likely take years for Raphael to bring the Devil back to life.

The search for Belial was going nowhere- the fallen angel had apparently disappeared into the ether.

Enepsigos and her companions- Vassago and Malpas- were always the bearers of bad news. There was a rumour going around that Belial had decided to join with Raphael.

Castiel sat in his seat rigidly, unblinkingly as Michael spoke about how they would crush any fallen angels who insisted on siding with Raphael or who were left to their own devices.

"This cannot be allowed," Michael said and the gathered seraphim nodded enthusiastically, "there must be order! There must be structure!"

"A lack of attentiveness is what caused the rebellion so long ago!" Michael continued, standing up and sweeping his blue-eyed gaze over his siblings.

"If Lucifer's revolt had been crushed immediately there would have been peace in Heaven," a second voice spoke up- an obsequious cherubim named Jael- and Michael nodded in agreement.

"When our Father abandoned us He left no one in charge, no one! How were we supposed to know who was to lead us? This shows that even He is not fit to rule. Our Father did not care enough to appoint a leader before He disappeared!" A third angel, Naya'il exclaimed.

"Our brother is right," Michael spoke calmly, "chaos ensued with no firm authority and look what happened… the Apocalypse was allowed to be thwarted… angels were allowed to rebel!"

The archangel spat out the last word as though it was poison and he looked pointedly at Castiel sitting beside him. The lower-ranking angel did not react to the scrutiny or Michael's words.

The congregated angels followed Michael's lead and glared daggers at Castiel.

The angel did not blame his siblings- they were being manipulated by the archangel and deserved his pity, not his hate.

"But I will not let that happen! I will take up this burden and rule Heaven the way it was meant to be ruled! All our brothers and sisters will come to see that my will supersedes that of our Father, and I will be a better king than He ever was," Michael appeared to all the long-suffering yet devoted elder brother and his words were followed by nods of agreement and looks of sympathetic affirmation.

Castiel's eyes widened at the blasphemy Michael was spilling forth. He knew that the archangel was arrogant but to say that he was greater than their Father? Even for Michael that was a bit much.

The angel lowered his gaze- he didn't want to look at the archangel anymore- and prayed that his Father would give him the strength to keep going, to 'fight the good fight, as Dean Winchester might say and prevent Michael from tearing Heaven apart from the inside out.

SPN

"Dean, its Sam. Again. Please call me back when you get this," I muttered into the receiver, trying to quell the worry that was beginning to form in my gut.

I hung up the phone and shook my head at Sarah. She held a Kleenex scrunched up in one hand and sniffled a little.

"Maybe you should lie down for a while?" I suggested and Sarah sneezed loudly into the tissue.

"I'm fine," Sarah waved away my concern.

"Oh no, you're not pulling that on me," I smiled slightly and took a hold of my wife's elbow.

"But I still have to make dinner," Sarah protested as I guided her toward the stairs.

I shook my head, "I can take care of that. You get some rest."

"I don't need to go to sleep, Sam," Sarah continued to argue as we made our way slowly upstairs.

I thought about the time I had come down with a mild flu the year before, around Christmas time, and how Sarah had mothered me despite that fact that I could easily take care of myself.

"You are going to take a nap and not complain and I will be up later with some soup," I said and steered Sarah into our bedroom.

"Chicken noodle?" Sarah asked and sneezed again.

"Whatever you want," I pulled the bed covers over her as she lay down.

"Hmm," Sarah mumbled, "did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"Every day," I smiled and leaned down to kiss Sarah's forehead.

"Now try and get some rest," I said in a stern voice but with a smile.

"Mmm," Sarah muttered and I could tell she was already nearly asleep already.

I crept back downstairs, checking my cell phone in case Dean had called that instead of the house phone but there were no new messages.

Faith was laying on the couch, fast asleep with her thumb in her mouth, some children's show playing across the TV screen. Aaron was in his playpen drooling all over a stuffed blue teddy bear.

I looked at the time- four o'clock- and went into the kitchen. I wasn't in the mood to make anything- it was a little late to start cooking a meal anyway- so I peered into the fridge and pulled out the container of leftover tuna casserole from the night before and a head of lettuce and some cherry tomatoes, a cucumber and a carrot for salad.

W

Half an hour later Faith, Aaron and I were sitting at the table, eating dinner. I sat in between the kids and switched between feeding Aaron strained peas and eating a bowl of casserole.

Faith, picky as she was, frowned at the warmed-up food and moved it around with her fork.

"Faith, eat your dinner," I said before scooping up some peas for Aaron.

"Don't like cass-roll," she muttered sourly.

"You liked it last night," I told her and ate some from my own bowl.

"I want pizza," Faith grumbled and folded her arms over her chest.

She gave me a bad-natured look that resembled her mother's angry expression remarkably.

"You are not leaving this table until you eat, young lady," I told Faith, not wanting to play games.

Faith's bottom lip stuck out and her eyes narrowed.

I didn't budge. Faith didn't move.

I ate some more casserole to demonstrate just how delicious it was.

"I like pizza," Faith said again and pushed her bowl away. She had already eaten all the lettuce in her plain salad, leaving the rest of the veggies at the bottom of the bowl.

I laid my palm against my daughter's forehead, hoping she wasn't getting sick. Yeah, she was picky but she always ate her vegetables and any other food placed in front of her without complaint as long as it was plain or wasn't heavily seasoned.

Faith didn't have a fever. I frowned.

"Dadada!" Aaron's voice brought me back and I looked at my son, arms held out toward me in an effort to get my attention.

"Sorry, little guy," I smiled and fed him some more peas. Aaron giggled happily and clapped his hands.

At least he likes dinner; I thought and turned to find Faith had slipped away while I had been distracted.

I sighed. I really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Faith, sit back down here, now!" I said loudly in the direction of the living room where I was sure she'd gone.

I didn't see my daughter come trudging into the room, head lowered and ready to eat the dinner I had, uh, warmed up.

"I am not playing around, missy," I said as I left the kitchen and walked into the living room to find Faith sitting on the couch, watching TV.

I stood behind the couch and leaned forward, picking my daughter up under the armpits.

"No! Don't want cass-roll! I want PIZZA!" Faith screeched the last word and I was sure Sarah had heard it.

I will be so glad when you turn three in December, I thought, no more Terrible Twos.

I carried Faith to her seat and sat her down, leveling my gaze at her.

"You need to eat your dinner. We do not have pizza," I told her, "you are going to eat the casserole."

Faith glared at me like I was asking her to swallow rat poison.

"Mommy'd let me have pizza," Faith told me.

I shook my head.

Okay, I know what you're probably thinking: Sam's a terrible father… if the child doesn't want to eat the casserole, then don't make her. Find something else she'll eat. I'm sure Sarah wouldn't force her daughter to sit at the table until she ate.

Yes, Sarah would bargain with Faith if she didn't eat the casserole and that was just the way she was brought up. Me, on the other hand, if I didn't want to eat something than I went to bed hungry because more often than not, Dad would be gone longer than expected, leaving Dean and I with a limited amount of cash to buy food with. At a very young age I learned to eat everything that was placed before me because whether I liked it or not, it was food. Dean and I never starved, it never got as bad as that but there were a few times when our money did run out before Dad came back and Dean and I had to eat whatever we could steal. We couldn't afford to be picky when we were never sure if Dad would be gone for three days or three weeks.

I sat back down between my son and daughter and resumed feeding Aaron and myself.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched Faith take the most minuscule bites of casserole before deciding she liked it and dug her fork in with gusto.

I held back a smile. See, I am not a horrible parent you think I am. I must not be the horrible parent I imagine myself to be. I know what my daughter's like and I knew she'd come around eventually.

W

After the kids had eaten I set them up in the living room with a movie- Cinderella- and went back into the kitchen to warm up some soup for Sarah.

I knew it wouldn't be long before Aaron fell asleep- he was lying on his stomach in his play pen watching the TV intently as the golden-haired heroine sang and danced along with a team of quirky mice.

Faith probably wouldn't be too far behind Aaron, it was getting close to six thirty and neither could stay awake much later than seven.

I grabbed some of that canned soup from the pantry. It'd be better than that horribly salty packaged stuff Sarah sometimes buys because it's pretty cheap.

I leaned against the counter while the soup heated. I tapped my fingers on the drawers in irritation.

Maybe I should call Dean again, I thought, just in case he didn't get my first messages.

I wanted to warn Dean that something was not right, that maybe there was a shapeshifter out there, pretending to be him. Dean needed to warn Lisa and the boys, to protect them.

I dug my cell phone from my pocket and hit the speed-dial number for my brother.

The phone rang and rang and rang. I got Dean's voicemail.

"Damn it, Dean! I need to talk to you. Now!" I snarled into the receiver.

I shut my phone and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans.

To take my mind off the fact that Dean was ignoring me, I filled up a bowl with soup and grabbed a spoon from the drawer.

I headed upstairs with Sarah's dinner, hoping she wasn't getting the flu because I knew that if one family member had it than it wouldn't be long before the rest of us did.

Sarah had tried to convince me to take the kids to get their flu shots earlier in the fall but I had talked her out of it- I told my wife I didn't feel comfortable with the children getting the needle, especially with them being so young.

I tiptoed into the room and saw that Sarah was fast asleep, one hand beneath her head and her mouth open slightly. She must be stuffed up then. I set the bowl of soup on the dresser and walked down the hall to the bathroom, swiping the Kleenex box from the back of the toilet and brought it back with me.

"Hey, you hungry?" I whispered and gently shook Sarah's shoulder.

"Mmm?" She muttered and rolled onto her back.

"Sarah, I brought the soup you wanted," I said a little bit louder and my wife opened her eyes, blinking owlishly at me before slowly sitting against the headboard.

"My hero," Sarah said and sneezed.

"You feeling any better?" I asked and handed her the warm bowl.

Sarah shook her head slightly, "a little. I just need to sleep it off, you know?"

I sat down on the edge of the bed beside Sarah. Her hair was frizzy from where she had been lying on it and her face was puffy with sleep. Sarah sniffled a little and ate a spoonful of soup.

"Have you gotten a hold of Dean yet?" she asked.

I shook my head, "no, but I'm sure he'll call soon… after he hears all the angry messages I've left him."

Sarah chuckled but then paused, "Dean's usually good about calling you back. You don't think anything's happened to him, do you?"

I frowned. That thought had been in the back of my mind.

"I'm sure he's just got called into work or something like that," I assured Sarah… and myself.

Dean was too good a hunter (even a retired one) to let a monster get the jump on him. I didn't know why my brother hadn't yet called me back but I was sure he had a good reason. At least, he should have a good reason because the silent treatment he was giving me was starting to piss me off.

SPN

Castiel paced nervously. He had only a few precious moments alone. A few crucial seconds in which to act before Michael returned. Castiel knew he was taking a huge risk but he needed to keep the Winchesters safe- he had no idea what the archangel might do to the boys and that frightened him. Both Sam and Dean had been through so much at the hands of the angels and Castiel wanted them to know that at least some of his siblings were on their side.

Castiel didn't know how the boys fit into Michael's plan but he did know that Raphael was still very dangerous, despite his current preoccupation. The angel hated that he couldn't be by Dean's side to protect the boy and his brother as he had done in the past. He only hoped a substitute would suffice.

A familiar angel appeared in the boardroom, arms folded over her small chest and a scowl on her face.

"If it's not Michael ordering me around like some sort of servant, it's you whining at me that we need to talk," Astoreth complained.

"I need you to watch Dean and Sam," Castiel said without answering his sister.

Astoreth looked at Castiel warily, "why me?"

"The Winchesters trust very few angels and with good reason but they do trust you," Castiel explained.

Astoreth sighed.

"I would go myself but Michael will not let me out of his sight for more than a few seconds and Abdiel as you know is still imprisoned," Castiel explained.

"Don't know why they trust me," Astoreth muttered and brushed her long black hair over her shoulders.

"You helped rescue, Sam," Castiel said as though the other angel would have forgotten.

"Ha! The older brother still does not like me too much, I think," Astoreth barked.

"But Sam does trust you," Castiel argued, "You didn't have to do what you did. You could have continued to keep silent, you could have obeyed Raphael and held Sam captive until Lucifer came for him… but you didn't."

Astoreth glared, "I didn't do it for him! Raphael's arrogance made me sick and Lucifer proved to be weak."

Castiel's normally serious expression softened for a moment, "If that is what you tell yourself."

Astoreth's own expression changed for a moment, a look of compassion flitted across her face before Castiel spoke again.

"All you have to do is watch the boys," he instructed, "there is no need to make your presence known."

"That's it? And I thought this would be difficult," Astoreth smirked.

"I am just worried that they are more vulnerable now that Abdiel and I cannot get to them," Castiel explained.

"How are we going to explain my absence?" Astoreth asked.

Castiel shrugged, "I'll say that you are searching for information on Raphael. That should pacify Michael for a while. He's more concerned with Belial and his whereabouts rather than the archangel."

Astoreth nodded and disappeared before Castiel could speak again. The angel turned around and Michael appeared, eyeing him curiously.

Castiel's serious expression betrayed nothing though and Michael dismissed the lower-ranking angel as though he was not worthy of an archangel's time.

SPN

I watched bad TV for a while until I couldn't focus anymore. The conversation, or rather, the rant I had heard Sam yell at me from over the phone kept playing again and again in my head.

I wandered out into the kitchen and grabbed my third beer and guzzled the contents.

I checked my phone- saw a number of messages left by my insane brother- and put my cell back in my pocket.

"You can go right on calling me, Sammy, but I'm not gonna answer," I muttered and leaned against the counter as I sipped at my beer.

I looked at my watch and decided that dinner was in order- it would be early but what the hell, I was a bachelor again so I could eat whenever the mood struck.

Halfway through my microwave TV dinner I stopped munching and looked up. I had the odd sensation of being watched.

I stood and went into the living room, checking out the buildings across the street in case someone was playing Peeping Tom. No one.

It's just 'cause you're alone, I thought and resumed my meal, but not before drawing the blinds on the widows.

"Great, Dean, acting like 'Single White Female' that's real macho," I scolded myself and cut off another chunk of Salisbury steak.

I didn't shake the 'someone's watching you' feeling. Not that it was a totally new experience but I didn't like it all the same. No one was supposed to be watching me, normal or supernatural, and that worried me a little.

Relax, Dean, I thought, it's probably just that cat lady next door who's trying to score a date with you.

I chuckled at the thought. Although Emma wasn't really a 'cat lady'- she had only one cat- she wasn't really my type. She was a little bit on the chunky side but she seemed friendly enough and I didn't have any complaints.

When I had first arrived at the condo, Emma was the first (and only) one of my neighbours to introduce herself. She invited me into her condo for a beer and I had obliged.

I found out Emma was a nurse at one of the local hospitals- in the neonatal section- and had been for nearly a dozen years.

'I love kids, don't you?' she had said in a bubbly way as we drank beers on her old, plaid couch- me sitting on one end and Emma on the other like a couple of nervous teenagers on their first date- and I had nodded, thinking about Ben and S.J. and Sam's children.

After our first encounter, Emma kept trying to get me to come over for a beer but I always refused, making up excuses why I was too busy. I wasn't trying to be rude or anything; I just liked my privacy and didn't want to get too buddy-buddy with anyone, especially any woman so soon after my divorce.

I dumped my trash in the garbage can in the kitchen and grabbed the carton of milk from the fridge. I looked at the blue and white carton and took a glass from the cupboard. I'm not sure why I didn't just drink out of the carton like I usually do- it's not that big of a deal is it? I mean, I'm the only one drinking the milk so I shouldn't really care- but something stopped me from being a total slob and I used a cup like a civilized person. Maybe it was the thought of someone watching me that improved my manners.

Which was ridiculous because no one was watching me!

I jumped when my phone vibrated and 'Smoke on the Water' rang out.

I checked the caller ID and saw it was Lisa. I answered.

"Hey," I greeted my ex-wife.

"How are you doing?" Lisa asked.

"Oh, fine," I said and gulped down some more milk before putting the carton back and setting the cup in the sink.

"Why are you asking?" I wanted to know.

"It's just that, you know, you kind of seemed a little reserved on Halloween and I was wondering if anything was bothering you," Lisa explained.

"Uh no, I don't think so… just the usual stuff," Halloween had only been yesterday and I wasn't sure how I had acted 'reserved', especially after that poison candy joke.

"I just thought, with the anniversary of your mother's death being tomorrow… I guess, maybe, if you wanted to talk for a while… we could… if you wanted," Lisa said and I could tell she was uncomfortable.

I had told her that Mom had died on the second of November but not how and now I was kind of regretting that decision.

"I'm okay Lisa, I'm a big boy," I refused.

"Dean, you don't have to do all that he-man stuff for me," Lisa said sharply, "I know you and I'm sure that today and tomorrow are not going to be good days for you."

I sighed, "Look, Lis, I appreciate that you care about this but I am fine, really. My mother died a long time ago and I've come to terms with it."

"Is it because I can't really understand what it's like? Is it because both my parents are still alive?" Lisa asked.

I groaned inwardly and was glad we were not speaking face to face.

"No, it's not that at all. I'm not the 'blubbering into a box of Kleenex' kind of guy and I don't really want to talk about it," I answered.

I was wondering why Lisa wanted to talk about it. Maybe she felt like she had a responsibility to do so because she knew about Mom's death.

"Have you called Sam?" Lisa asked suddenly as though I was trading her in for my brother.

"No, he phoned me," I said tightly.

"That's nice of him," Lisa answered as though I wasn't the kind of person who would completely disregard the fact that Sam had also lost Mom as much as I had.

"Look, Lisa, I'm kind of in the middle of something," a complete lie, "and I gotta go. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Don't forget about the boys on Friday!" Lisa managed to cry before I closed my phone because she knew that when I said 'I'll call you later' it really meant that I had no plans to call back.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

"Why did I ever think getting a divorce was a bad idea?" I muttered and headed back into the living room.

SPN

Belial knew immediately that he was not the only angel watching Sam Winchester. The fallen angel turned a full 360 degrees to try and spot the other.

Perhaps Michael is checking up on me, Belial thought, I would not put it past that arrogant-

Belial stopped in mid-thought when he saw a small Korean woman. She was standing very close to the house where Sam and his family currently were.

The fallen angel growled and appeared right beside the intruder.

Astoreth had known that Belial was there, she could sense him, sense his particular presence long before he had known exactly who she was.

Astoreth turned on Belial, a Seraph Blade clutched in her manicured hand.

"What are you doing here?" the female angel asked, spitting out the question.

"Observing," Belial answered with a smug smile.

Astoreth raised an eyebrow and circled the fallen angel warily.

"I doubt that is all you are doing, Belial," Astoreth accused, "I know you and I am sure you could not keep your sticky fingers out of the Winchesters' lives."

Belial gave a cocky shrug, "guilty as charged… but I have not harmed a hair on either of their heads if that is what you are worried about."

"Why are you here? Everyone believes you missing," Astoreth asked, still not letting her guard down.

"I'm simply doing what Michael asked me to do," Belial grinned as the female angel's eyes widened with shock.

Michael and Belial are working together! I must tell Castiel immediately! Astoreth thought but before she could return to Heaven Belial tsked and shook his head.

"If you try to move I will kill you," he warned her.

"How? I have a weapon and you are unarmed?" Astoreth spat.

"Surely you remember the Empyrean," Belial asked, "I do not need a weapon to kill."

The fallen angel was bluffing. Although he was a warrior, he was still an angel and he needed to be in possession of a Seraph Blade to kill his siblings.

In the mist of battle, no angel was really paying close attention to his or her siblings, and so Astoreth could not recall if she had see Belial with a weapon at all.

"I see you have abandoned us, Astoreth. I was sad to hear that," Belial said.

"Ha! All you care about is yourself," the female angel argued.

Belial shook his head, "no, that's not true. I wanted Lucifer to win."

"Lucifer failed miserably the first time and when he was given a second chance, he lost again… to a human!" Astoreth said.

"Oh, you mean that human?" Belial said and the two angels watched as Sam Winchester walked outside wearing black rubber boots and a jacket as he made his way toward the paddock.

Both angels, invisible to Sam, glared at one another, daring the other to engage the human. Astoreth was frightened Belial would kill Sam Winchester on the spot or else capture him and take him to Raphael. Belial was nervous that Astoreth would reveal his presence to the otherwise ignorant human.

Belial spoke first, "that is not a human, Astoreth, that is an abomination. I would think that you would be able to tell the difference."

"That boy is human," Astoreth argued.

"Even with demon blood coursing through his veins?" Belial asked.

"The boy had no control over Azazel's actions," Astoreth countered.

"Ah, but he did drink the blood of his own volition when he was older," Belial said smugly, "he drank blood because the demon Ruby told him he could kill Lilith if he consumed enough of it."

"We both now that demons manipulate, Belial, and the boy had no reason to doubt the demon," Astoreth argued for Sam.

"Will you listen to yourself? You are actually defending him! You do know that he has committed heinous crimes that will not be taken lightly. He is destined for Hell, Astoreth, surely you must know that?" Belial grinned.

"If he is, than why hasten his descent?" Astoreth said.

Belial's gaze drifted to the Seraph Blade in the female angel's hands. He had grown tired of arguing about Sam Winchester.

Belial flicked a hand and Astoreth went flying.

She landed heavily on her back but jumped up seconds later with inhuman reflexes.

"I cannot let you leave, you know," Belial said.

"And I cannot let you harm the Winchesters," Astoreth snarled and charged at Belial, Seraph Blade raised high.

Belial loved a good fight and though he had not had to battle one of his siblings in millennia, he knew he could easily overpower Astoreth.

The fallen angel sidestepped the female angel but he miscalculated and Astoreth turned on a dime, slashing at Belial with the Blade.

Belial hissed in pain as the Blade cut a line across his back. Astoreth would pay for that.

He turned around and didn't see the other angel.

"Yoohoo!" Astoreth called from a nearby hill, farther away from the house.

Belial ground his teeth and followed, appearing almost on top of Astoreth.

I cannot lose! I must warn Castiel about Michael's treachery, Astoreth thought as she grappled with Belial for the Blade.

Belial, not unused to fighting dirty, elbowed Astoreth in the face and grinned as her grasp on the Seraph Blade loosened.

Before the female angel could recover, Belial slipped the weapon from her grasp and plunged the Blade into her chest.

Bright light flashed and Astoreth's body tumbled to the ground, the imprint of her wings burnt black into the soil and grass.

Belial pocketed the Blade and looked down at the now-empty vessel, "I'm sorry sister but I could not allow you to ruin my fun."

SPN

"I'm gonna kill him, Sarah!" I exclaimed as I climbed into bed around eleven.

Sarah looked at me for a moment before she sneezed and wiped her nose with a Kleenex.

"I'm sure he's just busy," Sarah said, "People do have hectic lives."

"Dean always calls though, always," I said weakly.

"He'll phone you tomorrow," Sarah promised, "just you wait and see."

"Hmph," I muttered and lay down on my back with my hands beneath my head.

Sarah laid a hand on my chest; I could see her grey eyes sparkle in the dim light of the alarm clock.

I turned my head to look at Sarah just as she sneezed on me. I closed my eyes and wiped a hand over my face, "nice."

"Sorry," Sarah said in a meek voice and I heard her blowing her nose.

"Maybe I should sleep on the couch," I suggested, "so you can get some rest."

"You don't have to do that," Sarah argued and put a hand on my arm to stop me from getting up.

"You know I'm restless and if you're trying to sleep I don't want to keep you up," I said and grabbed my pillow.

Sarah sat up and even in the minimal light I could see the expression on her face.

"It's just until you get better, okay?" I assured her and leaned down to kiss her.

Sarah chuckled and pushed my head away, "I don't want to get you sick."

"It's a little bit late to be worried about that," I answered with a smile.

I sighed and turned toward the door.

"Sam? Are you okay?" I heard Sarah ask quietly.

I tensed for a moment. Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm okay? If I say I'm fine than I'm fine, end of story!

"Yeah," I answered quickly, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Love you," Sarah called just before I reached the threshold.

I didn't answer but nodded and made my way downstairs.

Moving slowly through the living room I sat down on the couch and looked at the shapes of the furniture around me: coffee table, end tables, recliner, television and bookcases.

All of these things were Sarah's. I had brought only what I could carry in my duffel bag with me when I had moved in. I suddenly felt very out of place. Once again that feeling of being a stranger in my own house flared up and I stubbornly tried to push it back down.

Don't be ridiculous, I thought, this house is yours as much as it's Sarah's. So what if you didn't buy all the furniture? That's not what matters. You know a home is more than the items inside it… there were lots of places you called home when you were a kid because of the people who were with you and not what was in the building.

Yeah, as long as Dad and Dean were with me, wherever we were, it was home. As long as we were together it didn't matter where we stayed.

Even when I went away to Stanford, that little apartment I shared with Jessica could hardly be called a 'home' but that was what it was because Jess made it so.

Why am I thinking about these things now? I wondered and then remembered that tomorrow was November second and my heart filled with sadness.

How could I forget? I admonished myself. Only days earlier Dean had been talking to me about Jessica and here I was completely forgetting the anniversary of her death… of Mom's death.

I put my head in my hands, feeling like a terrible person.

Don't worry about it, I thought, you've been really stressed lately. It's only natural that something was bound to slip past.

I hoped Dean would pull up his bootstraps and call me tomorrow. I wanted him to call me. I had done enough, leaving message after message only to be ignored. It wasn't my fault if my lazy-ass older brother didn't bother to check his voicemail.

You'd think he'd have learned to always check his cell phone for messages but, hey, that was Dean for you.

I settled down onto the couch, my pillow propped against the arm and closed my eyes, trying to sleep even though thoughts still swirled 'round my mind, begging to be recognized.

I rolled over onto my back, which afforded no room to move, and stared at the ceiling for a while until my eyes grew heavy and I allowed myself to drift into sleep.

W

The next morning I woke groggy, my back and neck sore from sleeping on the couch. I sat up and groaned quietly, turning my neck and shifting my shoulders experimentally. I decided that taking an Advil wouldn't hurt so I shuffled upstairs and into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I placed my hands on the bathroom counter and peered into the mirror. I sighed; I didn't know what I was expecting to see. I guessed I looked tired… but then again, I always looked tired.

I ran a hand through my hair, pushing my bangs away from my forehead and eyes. I'd need a haircut soon. I shrugged, if it didn't bother me or Sarah than I didn't see the point. I'd get it trimmed eventually, before it reached my shoulders, but right then, the length of my hair was the least of my concerns.

I opened the cabinet and took out the bottle of Advil and popped one of the reddish pills into my mouth. While I was thinking of it, I grabbed the new pills I had gotten from the pharmacy, the one's that Bobby thought would be better, and shook the right amount into my palm.

I replaced all the bottles and poured some water into the cup we kept by the sink. I washed all the meds down, nearly chocking on them despite the accompanying liquid, and opened the bathroom door.

Padding down the hall, I entered the bedroom Sarah and I shared and I pulled on a pair of old jeans and a grey, long-sleeved shirt. I walked over to my sleeping wife and kissed her gently on the temple. She mumbled and smiled in her sleep but didn't wake up. I noticed a pile of Kleenex on the ground beside Sarah and thought that I could make her breakfast in bed- a nice treat and a way of saying 'you just rest and I'll take care of things'.

I quickly peered into my children's rooms, making sure they were deeply asleep before going back downstairs.

I followed my usual morning routine- get coffee made, pull on coat and boots, go out to the barn to let the horses out and clean their stalls- but something just felt different about today.

I paused while the coffee percolated and I peered out the kitchen window toward the pasture and the bare oak tree.

There was nothing there. Of course. I didn't know why I expected to see something.

It's a good sign not to see strange apparitions, I reminded myself, it was just a fluke that one time. I knew it was.

I shook my head, deciding it was the day itself and what it meant that was giving me the heebie-jeebies.

"Nothing to be worried about," I muttered out loud as I poured some freshly brewed coffee into a travel mug and stepped into the foyer to put on my boots and coat.

W

The wind whipped coldly through my coat as I stepped outside and I shivered, gripping the warm travel mug in one hand and closing the front door of the house quickly.

Why couldn't Sarah have moved to Florida, I thought as I walked down the porch steps, or Arizona?

I made my way to the barn and opened the double-doors. The horses whinnied when they caught sight of me and I smiled. Despite it being November second, I couldn't forget that I had to remember to live and not dwell on those who were dead.

"How'd you guys sleep?" I asked and unlatched the stall doors so that all three horses filed out and followed me to the pasture.

Once the horses were securely in the paddock, I went back into the barn to muck out the stalls and lay down clean straw and put out fresh water and oats.

I took my time, focusing on the work I was doing and nothing else. In about two hours I had finished the chores and sat down on an overturned milk crate to relax.

The sun was shining now, bright and golden, dispelling some of the cold in the air.

I stood up and stretched, deciding I could go inside and take a quick shower before waking the kids up.

Standing in the doorway of the barn, my gaze travelled to the field where the horses were. I wanted nothing more than to check on Marlowe, who had seemed to age rapidly in the last few months and saw him munching on grass by the oak tree.

I frowned when I saw the silhouette of a person just to the side of the tree.

"What the-" I began, unsure of why someone would be in the field but the words died on my lips when the light from the early-morning sun revealed the shadows of large, wide wings spreading out from the stranger's back, as if he or she were about to take flight.

"Oh shit," I turned and forgot to close the barn doors in my haste as I ran to the house.

It was an angel! I was sure of it. I knew it! But what I wasn't sure of was whether they were friend of foe. I couldn't take any chances though as I hurried inside and made my way to the kitchen, taking a steak knife from the drawer.

I cut my palm as I walked back to the front hall and smeared the blood with my fingers, painting a sigil on the wooden door. Not satisfied, I moved around the first level of the house, marking the windowsills with smaller sigils, regardless of the reaction Sarah would have upon finding the symbols.

I took the stairs two at a time and wrapped a bandage around my hand. I heard Aaron stirring in his nursery just down the hall and I went to him.

"Hey, buddy," I said softly as I carefully picked him up from his crib and carried him to the change-table.

My son whimpered unhappily for a moment but when he recognized me his eyes lit up and a toothless grin spread across his lips.

"Nothing's gonna hurt you," I mumbled as I changed Aaron's diaper and put a clean one on.

"Daddy's gonna keep you safe…" I said as I lifted Aaron up and cradled him, "I'm not going to let anything hurt Mommy or Faith either."

Abdiel! I need you! I thought silently, hoping the angel would hear and meet me soon.

I carried my infant son downstairs and set him in his high chair. I sat down beside him for a moment and pulled my cell phone from my pocket.

"Dean, its Sam… Please, please check your messages…" I begged, beginning to get seriously worried for him, "I think the guys upstairs have renewed their interest in us… call me as soon as you get this."

I closed my phone and looked at Aaron for a moment. He beat his tiny fists against the plastic tray on the chair and looked annoyed that his breakfast wasn't ready.

I dialed another number and this time I got an answer.

"Bobby, do you have any holy oil kicking around?"

SPN

"Gooood Morning, Cicero! This is Jack McCracken on ROCK IT 176.8, lettin' everyone know that it is a beee-utiful November day! Just look at that sunshine!"

I groaned and hit the Snooze button and moaned in pleasure as the radio was immediately silenced.

I opened one eye reluctantly when my phone vibrated and 'Smoke on the Water' rang out. I closed my eye again with a smile as the quiet resumed.

Twenty minutes later I jumped when Alice in Chains began singing 'Heaven Beside You.'

I rubbed a hand over my face and sat up. I grabbed my phone and saw over half a dozen voice mail messages from my brother- the latest one being timed at twenty minutes ago- I sighed but refused to give in. If Sam wanted to blabber on about how awesome Sarah was the he could go right ahead and tell her about it. There was no way I wanted to listen to my brother bashing his late girlfriend and our Mom, especially not this morning.

I slid out of bed and found a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt to wear. It wasn't like I was doing anything special or going anywhere. I really just wanted to stay home, maybe watch some television, drink beer and ruminate on my mother… and finally bringing her justice.

I padded barefoot into the kitchen and decided to make myself some scrambled eggs. A nice change from my usual breakfast of toast or cereal.

As I cooked the eggs, adding some Cheddar cheese and hot sauce, I couldn't help but wonder what Sam was doing.

Probably not even thinking about Mom or Jess, I thought, unfeeling bastard.

Let him, I told myself, it doesn't concern you if your brother wants to be a prick.

I didn't think about Sam for the next hour. I ate my eggs and drank orange juice right out of the jug, channel surfed until I found a old Western with Lee Marvin and John Wayne and settled in for some good, old-fashioned gunfighter violence.

SPN

"Are you sure we're safe?" Sarah asked me for the fifth time.

I nodded, "I don't think you'll be in any danger as long as you stay in the house."

Sarah nodded and looked worried. She was sitting on the couch with Faith beside her and Aaron on her lap.

I didn't want to jump to any conclusions but if one thing my life as a hunter has told me it's 'better to be safe than sorry.'

I smiled encouragingly even though I didn't feel very hopeful.

The best thing to do, I had decided, was to act natural. Don't let on that I suspected anything, especially if the angel outside wasn't a friendly.

I didn't want to take any unnecessary chances though and told Sarah to stay in the house until I could determine whether we were in any danger or not.

Bobby was driving up from his place with some supplies I'd asked for but it would likely be close to fifteen or sixteen hours before he arrived.

I just couldn't wait that long.

I knew I was taking a huge risk but I needed to know if my family was in any danger.

I had grabbed a pair of binoculars from the hall closet and had watched for the angel but he seemed to have gone elsewhere.

With one hand clutching the binoculars and the other running nervously through my hair I was at a stale-mate. I had to know if the angel was dangerous and I didn't want to wait for Bobby to arrive… but I didn't want to do something stupid that would get me or my family killed.

I bit my lip and peered out the window: Castiel! Abdiel! Is there anyone out there? Anyone listening? I need your help! C'mon guys, just a simple yes or no would be great! Is this guy on the other team or not?

But I received no answer. Typical, I thought, angels moved at their own pace and no one else's. I'd expect Abdiel to have appeared by now though, if not Cas.

Maybe this is an ally, I mused. No, don't do that. There's a good chance that he's an enemy and I didn't want to end up dead or worse by making that mistake.

"Damn it!" I exclaimed and set the binoculars down on the coffee table.

Sarah looked at me and sneezed, "maybe you could call Dean?"

"I've been trying, Sarah! But he won't answer his phone!" I snapped in frustration.

Sarah didn't reply but turned on the television and found a children's show for Faith to watch.

My wife stood up and her expression turned determined.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

I shrugged, "just don't panic."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, "don't panic? That's what I can do? Sam, there may be an enemy sitting on our doorstep, and you tell me NOT TO PANIC!"

I was taken aback by Sarah's outburst, "we can't really do anything until Bobby gets here."

Now was not the time to get into an argument with my wife. Sarah put her fists on her hips and looked like she wanted nothing more than to smack me.

"Please, Sarah, I'm just trying to protect you and the kids," I said in a calm voice.

"Oh, and a real good job you've done of that," Sarah said sarcastically.

I opened my mouth to reply but then Sarah did hit me. Hard.

I raised a hand to the side of my face and looked at Sarah in shock.

Her expression crumbled and tears welled up in her eyes, "oh God Sam! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to!"

I shook my head a little, "that's okay."

Sarah nodded, "I'm just scared of losing you."

I grabbed Sarah in a tight hug and kissed her.

"I love you too," I mumbled with my face buried into her hair.

I closed my eyes, "I think you should go. Take Faith and Aaron and get out of the house."

Sarah pulled back and looked at me with a confused expression, "What? I'm not leaving you all alone with an enemy just yards away!"

I shook my head, "You are going to leave, take the kids and go… go to Coombs' place, it's in town, and you'll be safe there."

"No, no," Sarah said and held my face between her hands, "I let you go off alone to fight an enemy before and I am not going to make that mistake again."

I gripped my wife's hands, "Please, listen to me: I know you want to stay but I'm begging you. Leave. Now. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you or the kids."

Sarah's eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip, "I should have gone with you… I should have made you take me with you…"

I hugged my wife tightly, "if you don't care anything for your own safety, please do this for Faith and Aaron."

"It almost killed me when you left to track down that hunter… I thought I was going to lose you again… I didn't think you'd be coming back," Sarah mumbled against my shoulder.

A lump grew in my throat and I swallowed it down.

"I'm going to come back. I will. I promise. But please, please take our kids to safety," I begged.

Sarah narrowed her eyes with hurt and nodded, "just make sure you make it out of this alive."

I smiled grimly, "I always do."

Sarah grimaced, "that's not funny, Sam Winchester."

"I know. Listen, walk to the Meyers' farm and borrow their car to take into town… tell them yours is out of gas and I'm out… tell them it's an emergency, they shouldn't ask too many questions," I spoke quickly and moved over to the couch where Faith was holding her little brother in her lap.

"As if the neigbours don't think we're strange enough," Sarah spoke up but I didn't reply. I just planted a kiss on the top of Faith's dark curls and did the same to Aaron's raven locks.

Sarah scooped our son into her arms and held a hand out to Faith, "C'mon Sweetheart, we're going on a walk and then we're going to town."

Faith jumped up from the couch and looked at me, "Daddy come too?"

"I'm gonna stay here but you'll see me when you come back, okay?" I said and Faith nodded.

"Tell Mommy I said you could get ice cream," I whispered to my daughter, trying to keep a light heart and not let Faith sense my anxiety.

Faith flashed a winning smile and eagerly held onto Sarah's fingers.

"Bye bye, Daddy," Faith waved one chubby hand in my direction as Sarah moved to the rear of the house to our barely-used back door.

I wasn't really sure why we had a back door anyway. The house was small and the rear of the house only faced more Montana prairieland.

I shrugged, someone had probably thought it'd be useful one day and lo and behold it was.

I turned toward the front window and picked up the binoculars again, peering out in vain for the angel by the oak tree.


	32. We Hold On

Bobby Singer couldn't help but wonder what kind of a mess his boys had gotten themselves into this time.

Seems I only hear from 'em when they're up shit creek without a paddle, the old hunter mused to himself as he drove down the seemingly endless highway toward Montana.

Bobby sighed and scratched his head without removing his baseball cap.

Damn boys are gonna kill me one of these days, he thought and turned on the radio, rumbling in pleasure as Joni Mitchell's sweet, soft voice swirled from the stereo.

It would be late evening, ten or eleven at night, before Bobby arrived in Petite and even then he and Sam would have to prepare the supplies.

The old hunter thought about the three clay jugs of holy oil wrapped carefully in blankets in the back of the truck. Sam Winchester was damn lucky Bobby still had some friends around who could get their hands on such items. Even then it had been like pulling teeth to get Bobby's buddies to relinquish the stuff with no explanation.

It wasn't like Bobby was going to say that he and John Winchester's boys were going to roast them up some angels, knowing that wouldn't go over well with the seminary school graduates. But they'd given in eventually, after Bobby had reminded them of doing favours for them or members of their flocks- saving them from demons, etc. - and that had done the trick.

Damn skinflints, Bobby grumbled in his head, hoard the stuff like it's made of gold. He knew that the holy oil was used in several Christian sacraments but he wondered how his friends would react if they knew the ointment could be used to seal angels.

The old hunter fished his phone from the pocket of his vest and Speed Dialed Sam's number.

"How's it going out there?" He grumbled without pausing to greet the younger man.

"All quiet," Sam mumbled a response.

Bobby cleared his throat, "Got a hold of that fool of a brother of yours, yet?"

He heard Sam sigh, "No, not yet… I think I've left him over a dozen messages. I'm really starting to get worried Bobby."

"Don't sweat it," Bobby assured his friend, "Dean can be as stubborn as a mule if he wants to be."

"Maybe he really doesn't care about me anymore… maybe he never really did," Sam almost whispered and Bobby grimaced.

"Now don't start thinking like that," Bobby answered, "Dean's said a lot of things that he didn't mean and I'm sure he'll take back what he told ya over the phone."

Bobby had just about shat a brick when Sam had told him about his conversation with his brother. If Dean had been a youngster and close at hand, Bobby would have cuffed that boy around the head a few good times. Sure, Bobby was used to the Winchesters fighting, their bickering and full-out shouting matches but he had never, never heard Dean tell Sam that he hated him, that it would have been better if Sam had remained where he was. Dead. In Hell. In Lucifer's Cage. I had been trying to convince myself that whoever or whatever had called me had not been Dean and I almost believed it myself… but, there was still the shadow of doubt in the back of my mind as I remembered all the times I had pissed Dean off in the past few months that maybe, maybe my brother had gotten tired of me. Jesus, I didn't even know what to think anymore! It could be Dean and it might not. I couldn't tell for sure but I did know that I didn't want to make things worse. I decided to hope for the best but prepare for the worst when I eventually heard back from Dean.

"Do you want me to give him a call?" Bobby asked.

He heard Sam shake his head, "No, I'll try him again. I should be the one to tell him about this."

"Okay," Bobby grunted, "Just keep me updated, will ya?"

"I will," Sam said, "And thanks again, Bobby."

The old hunter shook his head and shoved the phone back into its pocket.

Right now he had bigger fish to fry than Dean Winchester. They had an angel to interrogate.

Bobby wondered why the angels were keeping tabs on his boys right then. From what Sam and Dean had told him, Raphael was busy playing fifty-two trillion Pick Up and Michael was still partying it up in Heaven.

Don't try and figure out what the angels are thinking, Bobby thought, you'll only give yourself a headache.

The old hunter sighed and turned his attention back to the road that unfolded before him, hoping he'd get to Sam before anything happened to the boy.

SPN

What did he want? Why was he here? Was he friend or foe?

Those thoughts occupied my mind as I waited for Bobby to arrive from South Dakota. There was nothing much I could do except wait… and that only made me antsy. I paced around in front of the window, binoculars hanging loosely from my sweaty hand, gaze shifting to the oak tree every few minutes.

I didn't see the angel, whoever he was, but I was sure he was still there. And I was sure he could see me.

I rubbed my face with my free hand. Why can't those assholes just leave us alone? The Apocalypse had been defused, so why send a crony to spy on us?

And why hadn't Dean called me back yet?

I had left him more than enough messages. Now I was starting to get really worried.

Maybe I should call Lisa and see if she knows where he is.

I quickly squished that idea though. Lisa and I had a tenuous truce and I didn't want to go asking her where her ex-husband was. It wasn't her job to know that sort of thing anymore. Besides, I'd only end up looking like a dumbass in front of the woman who already thought I was a weirdo.

I wandered into the kitchen and poured myself what must have been my sixth cup of coffee.

Sarah had called my cell about half an hour ago to let me know they had arrived safely at Coombs' place.

I was glad my family was out of harm's way. I knew that Sarah would have stayed by my side but, like the battle with Lucifer, this was very different from fighting the ghost of a little girl from the early 20th century. I loved that Sarah was so brave but I would die if anything ever happened to her on my watch.

Calm down, I scolded myself and gulped down some of the strong caffeinated drink, Sarah is miles away. She and the kids are far away from any danger.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I thought this was all over. If I thought really hard about it though, if I looked at Bobby I guess it made sense that you never really retired from the life of a hunter. No matter where you went, what you did, trouble always seemed to find you.

Or maybe it's just me.

I jumped when my cell phone vibrated in my jeans' pocket and I fished it out, fully expecting it to be Bobby again.

"I told you I'd keep you updated… it's been like twenty minutes-" I began but then my brother cut me off.

"Sammy! What the hell is going on?" Dean's voice sounded angry and worried.

I gulped. I did not want to have another argument.

"How long have you known about the angel?" he asked before I could say anything else.

"I, uh, I didn't think it was anything… I thought I was seeing things," Okay, that sounded lame and I cringed in anticipation of setting Dean off on a tirade.

"Jeez, Sammy, you gotta tell me these things… especially with the fact that those bastards could be after Faith and Aaron," All the anger seemed to have left Dean and now he sounded nervous and sad.

"But… I… you're not angry at me?" I stammered.

"Angry at you about what?" Dean sounded confused.

"You made it very clear that you hated me and threatened to call the police on me," I said, realizing how insane it sounded to remind my brother of what he had vehemently told me over the phone… something I didn't think I'd ever forget, much less Dean.

"I… what? I never said anything like that! You're the one who practically put Sarah and your kids on a pedestal and could have given a shit about Mom and Jess," Dean informed me.

I sucked in a deep breath. I would never ever forget Jessica and despite the fact that I hadn't had the chance to get to know Mom the way Dean had, I still loved her.

My brow furrowed.

"Oh fuck," I muttered and rubbed my forehead with the tips of my fingers.

"What?" Dean asked, sounding a little bit on edge.

"I think someone's been screwing us," I answered.

"Huh," was the answer.

I took a deep breath, "I couldn't find my phone a couple of days ago and after searching the entire house Sarah suggested that it might have fallen from my pocket. I found it outside of the barn."

It was Dean's turn to gasp, "I was in the parking lot of the grocery store after you… or whoever called me and some guy bumped me. Later, I could have sworn I had my phone with me but it was just gone… I looked in the truck and couldn't find it and when I went back to the condo the damn thing was sitting on the table. I thought I'd just put it there without thinking and forgot about it."

I ground my teeth but grinned. At least I knew that Dean didn't hate me.

"Fuck! I feel so… violated!" Dean exclaimed over the phone and I held in the urge to laugh out loud.

"Goddamn angels! I hate you guys!" I heard Dean shout, holding the phone away so he didn't yell in my ear.

"I called Bobby and he's got some supplies… he should be here about late evening," I said, "Sarah and the kids are in town-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait. You're alone at the ranch?" Dean asked.

"Uh, yeah," I answered as though it should be obvious I hadn't invited the neigbours over for a barbeque while an enemy angel stood nearby.

"Sam! You shouldn't be alone," Dean said.

I huffed, "I can take care of myself. If you had bothered to answer your phone earlier than maybe you would be here with me now instead of all the way in Indiana."

"Hey! It's not my fault I thought you were being a douchebag," Dean said defensively.

I just shook my head.

"I'm gonna catch the next flight out," my brother told me in a tone that told me there would be no further discussion.

"Fine. But you'll probably miss all the fun by the time you get here," I answered, glad that Dean was flying out to Montana.

"Just don't do anything stupid until I get there," Dean commented and I chuckled a little bit.

"Do we know who we're up against?" Dean asked.

I shrugged, "Does it really matter?"

"Not really, but I'd like to know who's name I'm gonna carve into the bullet I'll aim at his heart," Dean joked but I could tell that he was worried.

And why shouldn't he be? Just when we thought that we were safe, Castiel had given us… me some pretty devastating news. I still couldn't think about Faith or Aaron without knowing that someday they might be placed in the exact same position Dean and I had been. I just hoped my kids were stronger than I had been.

I sighed and took a gulp of coffee, grimacing when I got a mouthful of bitter dregs.

"Have you heard from Cas or Abdiel lately?" I asked my brother.

"No, why?" Dean wanted to know and I could almost see his curious, anxious face.

"I've been calling them and calling them and usually one of them would have shown up by now," I explained.

"Maybe they're busy," Dean suggested, "You know things are heating up again in Heaven."

"Yeah," I relented, "I'm just kind of worried about them."

"They can take care of themselves… it's you who needs to be babysat," Dean said, humorous again.

"Ha ha," I said without any humour.

"I just hate this waiting around… its driving me up the walls!" I exclaimed and I heard Dean make a sympathetic noise.

"I'd better get going, so we can both climb the walls together," Dean said, "I should only be a few hours."

"Okay, oh and when you get here park down the road a ways and come in through the back door," I instructed. I didn't want to alert the angel to the fact that I was getting reinforcements.

"You have a back door?" Dean asked and hung up.

I set my phone down and poured the old coffee out, instead I grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge and took a sip of that. Really anything with caffeine would do for now.

W

Hours passed and I had nothing to do but wait. I paced around and around the living room like a caged animal. I drank three sodas in quick succession before decided I should cut down on the liquids- already full of coffee as I was- nerves and a full bladder did not mix well.

I made a haphazard cheese sandwich and wolfed it down. I went around the first floor, turning on the lights as it grew dark outside.

"C'mon Bobby," I muttered anxiously and peered out the window with the binoculars, unable to see anything in the darkness anyway. I hadn't ventured outside since that morning and the horses were still in the paddock, probably standing at the gate, waiting to be let into the barn for the night.

I checked my watch; it was only six forty-four and sighed. It would be hours until Bobby arrived… and Dean, he wouldn't probably get here until the next morning.

I was growing more and more nervous. Perhaps this (unfriendly) angel knew what we were up to? Maybe he would be ready for us?

But what, I thought, were we ready for?

Running a hand through my hair, I thought about what Cas had said regarding Faith and Aaron.

The very last thing I wanted was for my son and daughter to be caught up in the same battle Dean and I had been.

"Damn you," I muttered, not exactly sure who I was cursing.

C'mon Sam, I thought; you can do this! You fought and killed Lucifer himself for Christ's sake!

I frowned though, recalling that chill November morning that saw Dean and I transported to that old cemetery in Alaska on the seeming impossible task of destroying the Devil.

I sat down in the reclining chair and peered at the bookshelves absent-mindedly. I hoped we would still have the element of surprise. There was nothing worse than thinking you've got the jump on an enemy only to find that they are two steps ahead of you.

SPN

Castiel did not blink or give any indication that he was listening to Michael at all. The archangel was circling him, glaring at him suspiciously.

"I am curious, Castiel, to find out just how much you know," the archangel said, his blue eyes flashing.

"Why should I know anything, Michael? I am continually kept in the dark about the goings-on in Heaven and thanks to you I am considered little more than a criminal. Castiel the Malcontent," the lower-ranking angel said in an expressionless tone.

Michael stopped walking and stood before Castiel, "I know that you would do anything to protect those humans and I also know you are not below dragging good angels down with you."

Castiel shook his head, "how could I do anything for the Winchesters when you are always watching me? Surely you would know if I went to them, even for a nanosecond."

Michael glared at the other angel but then calmed down, "if I had a choice, you would be in prison right alongside Abdiel. You though, are not a lost cause, you can still be re-educated, Castiel. I am willing to gloss over your past… discrepancies and allow you privileges no other angel has."

Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion, "what are you proposing, Michael?"

The archangel smiled; a grin that did not suit his vessel's youthful features.

"You know more about humankind and those two humans in particular than any of our siblings… I am offering you the chance to join me in our great crusade against the rebels in exchange for information on the Winchesters," Michael said slowly.

"What information could you possibly want on those boys?" Castiel asked but Michael did not answer.

The archangel brushed his clothes as though he was thinking very hard about what he was going to say next, "those humans still have their uses."

"Where does Raphael fit into all of this?" Castiel had to ask.

"Raphael, like me, wishes only to put things right," Michael answered.

The elusive answer did not sit well with Castiel at all.

"And if I refuse?" the lower-ranking angel asked.

Michael smiled wolfishly, "I will personally see to it that the Winchesters wish they had never been born."

Castiel frowned. He would be digging his own grave by siding with Michael but he did not want any harm to come to Sam and Dean. He couldn't bear the thought of having their blood on his hands.

"If I agree you will not harm the Winchesters, any of them?" Castiel specified.

"Their families, also, will not be touched," Michael answered.

Castiel knew Michael was lying through his teeth. He knew that the archangel would see the Apocalypse re-started and Sam and Dean doomed to their 'destiny'. He now found himself between a rock and a hard place and he didn't like that feeling at all. But… if he could get on Michael's good side, perhaps he would be able to help the Winchesters. Castiel knew he was taking a huge risk, turning his back on his family was nothing new to him, but what he was about to do was in a sense 'sleeping with the enemy'. But if it would keep Dean and his brother out of Michael's line of sight, if only for a little while than it would be worth it.

Castiel nodded and Michael offered his hand. Castile took it and the two angels shook, the archangel squeezing the other angel's hand as though attempting to break it.

Michael gave one last sneer and disappeared. Castiel sighed and put his head in his hands. He hoped that he had done the right thing and had not just signed the death warrant of not only himself but also the Winchester's, Abdiel and all their allies.

SPN

If it had been any other hunter to tell Bobby Singer what to do then he would have told that unfortunate soul to go fuck themselves. But because it was Sam, Bobby sucked it up and went along with the boy's instructions.

Kid might be OCD but at least it kept him on the ball, Bobby thought as he parked his truck a mile away from Sam Winchester's farmhouse.

A mile! Not so far to drive, but to walk, especially in the dark, while carrying supplies? Bobby had kept his trap shut though and just nodded as he listened to the boy telling him what to do.

As the old hunter received the instructions he couldn't help but think that Sam was more like his Daddy than the boy knew.

"…Did you hear me, Bobby?" Sam was saying, jolting the old hunter from his thoughts.

"Yeah, I heard ya, boy," Bobby replied in his usual grumpy manner, "no flashlights."

"Just take it slowly," Sam cautioned, "I don't think our friend is going anywhere fast."

"I ain't an old man, Sam! I know what to do!" Bobby snapped at the younger hunter.

"Sorry Bobby," Sam apologized, sounding chagrined.

Bobby sighed. He had told himself not to get snippy with Sam and what had happened? Well, he was tired from driving all day and his ass hurt from sitting just as long and he would rather be at home with a cold one, watching some good late-night TV- David Letterman or something like that.

"So… you know what to do?" Sam asked, a little less anxiously than before.

"I'll remember," Bobby assured the young man, "let's just keep our fingers crossed that fly-boy don't know I'm here."

Sam chuckled humorlessly and Bobby hung up, put the phone on silent and began the long walk to the house.

It was cold, with no trees to act as windbreaks, a chill breeze whipped past the old hunter, bringing with it minute flakes of snow which soon coated everything in tiny frozen diamonds. Bobby stayed within sight of the road, but out of sight of passing motorists. He didn't want some curious farm-hand asking if he needed a lift every five feet.

The old hunter pulled his baseball cap lower over his face and zipped up his dingy brown vest, kicking himself for not bringing a coat. The jugs of holy oil shifted soundlessly in their cardboard box, muffled by a couple of old towels from Bobby's trunk. Besides the oil, the supplies Bobby had procured were a couple of Seraph Blades and salt and holy water (it was better to be safe than dead in Bobby's opinion and who knew if that angel had connections with demons?).

The frost-covered grass crunched under Bobby's boots like tiny bones and made him very uncomfortable, as though it was an omen.

C'mon Singer, smarten up! Don't be going senile in your old age, he scolded himself and shook his bearded head. He paused and sat the box down, stretching his arms to get the feeling back.

Damn those jugs were heavy! He thought and bent to pick the box up again and continue. It was very late, almost midnight, and very dark- the sky above an inky black with just the slightest touch of violet to the west. Not even the stars shone tonight.

Oh well, Bobby thought, means I can't be seen. No stars and no moon meant the darkness concealed him. In the days when he was actively hunting he often prayed for nights like this.

Bobby stumbled, almost losing the cardboard box in the process and swearing out loud.

"Fuck!" the curse was short and clipped; Bobby's heart pounded in his chest and his grip on the precious oil tightened tenfold.

"Can't see a bloody thing," he snarled quietly, keeping his voice low as he regained his composure.

If Bobby had been a younger man, he would have shaken it off but now he walked with his eyes to the ground, straining to see oncoming obstacles.

W

Nearly thirty-five minutes later Bobby saw the yellow lights of Sam's house up on the little swell of land it sat upon.

Sighing with relief, Bobby sat the box down one last time and shook his numb arms. His feet felt frozen besides the boots he wore and his face felt chapped from the wind.

Damned if I'm gonna do anything like this again, Bobby grumbled in his head, I am getting too old for this shit.

He approached the house slowly, walking so that his footsteps coincided with each gust of wind to cover the sound. He was sure he looked like an idiot, walking forward a few steps only to stop, stand motionless like a statue and then move forward again only to repeat the action but as long as it allowed him to remain undetected than he didn't care.

Bobby chuckled a little. If Rufus was here he'd probably be laughing his ass off.

Should a' called him, Bobby thought, man may not know much about angels but he sure was handy to have on a hunt. And it never did hurt to have backup for the backup.

Oh well, beggars couldn't be choosers and all that nonsense.

Like a shadow, Bobby stole across the crisp grass, zigzagging his way to the rear of the farmhouse. He crept up to the back door- an unusual feature in old ranch houses like this one- and knocked a quick staccato.

The wooden door opened an inch and then wider once Sam saw who it was.

Bobby stepped inside and shook himself, dislodging the snowflakes that had gathered on his cap and shoulders and in his beard.

"Sorry it took so long," Bobby apologized and handed the supplies over to the younger man.

"S'okay Bobby," Sam waved the apology away and walked further into the house.

Bobby could see that the boy was nervous. Normally one to take a passive-aggressive stance, Sam was unusually fidgety- he was twisting his wedding band around his finger, pausing to run a hand through his already disheveled hair and didn't sit himself when he offered Bobby the reclining chair in the living room.

"You've been here by yourself all day?" Bobby asked, curiously.

Sam nodded, "got Sarah to take the kids into town this morning."

"When'd you think Dean'll be here?" Bobby asked, not sitting down in the recliner.

Sam shrugged and rubbed his face with his hand, "Sometime in the morning, I guess."

"Huh, so it looks like it'll be up to us," Bobby surmised and scratched his beard thoughtfully.

Sam nodded; his expression rueful and a little embarrassed.

Bobby stretched his arms over his head, groaning as his shoulder's popped, "why don't you make us some coffee and we'll get down to business."

Sam smiled grimly and headed into the kitchen. Bobby peered out of the front window, expecting to see… something but all he could make out was the silhouette of that big oak tree and the three moving shapes of the horses.

"You got a light for the driveway?" Bobby asked, calling into the kitchen over the sound of the coffeemaker.

"Uh, yeah," Sam answered, "Don't use it much 'cause it's like a friggin' spotlight."

"Well, we might need it now," Bobby said in a quieter voice, not sure that Sam had heard.

The old hunter did not like the thought that the enemy could see them but they had no idea where the hell he was.

Sam came out with two mugs brimming with steaming hot coffee and handed one to Bobby.

"All right," Bobby said after taking a healthy gulp of coffee, feeling the liquid warm his belly instantly, "Let's get this show on the road."

SPN

The plan wasn't great. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Pretty much it consisted of what we usually did when we encountered unknown angels.

Step One: Lure the angel into a ring of holy oil.

Step Two: Determine whether the angel was a friend or foe.

Step Three: A) Use a Seraph Blade to kill an unfriendly or, B) Release the ally angel.

Step Four: Get the hell out of the way of the pissed off angel who we'd just trapped.

Yeah, the work of a true genius. I guess there's something to be said for the old reliable standby though.

"You really this is going to work?" I asked Bobby tentatively, eyeing the clay jugs containing holy oil.

"You tell me," Bobby raised an eyebrow, "It's always worked before, hasn't it?"

I nodded. Sometimes I couldn't get over how stupid angels were to fall into the same trap time and time again. You'd think they'd tell their buddies not to appear in that suspicious circle of oil so recently poured by the Winchesters.

Bobby was going to hide until we could figure out whether or not the angel was an ally or not. Bobby, of course, was against this part of the plan but I insisted on it.

"I don't want you getting hurt," I told the old hunter, "If the angel feels threatened than he could attack."

I know, I know. How were two humans supposed to threaten an angel? But give me some credit here; I was not only looking out for my own safety but Bobby's as well.

"He could attack either way," Bobby attempted to argue.

I shook my head, "It will be a whole lot better if we surprise him… he might not be able to react as quickly if you sneak up on him."

Bobby paused for a moment, thinking and then nodded.

"I get your point," he finally said and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Bobby handed me a Seraph Blade and a plastic water bottle full of holy oil, just in case I needed it. I had a book of matches in the back pocket of my jeans.

The old hunter would take care of the rest of the oil, the second Seraph Blade, the holy water and salt (which he assured me was just a precaution).

"Bobby, you're acting like this is my first hunting trip," I said and Bobby just chuckled.

"Well, you've been on-and-off the past couple of years an' I just wanna make sure you're still up to it," the old hunter explained.

"It's like riding a bicycle, you never really forget," I commented, serious now.

I went to the front hall and flicked on our driveway light. A good chunk of the driveway and front lawn was illuminated in the white glare.

"Okay, you just stay in the shadows and stay quiet," I instructed.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Bobby said and went to slip out the back door with the rest of the supplies.

I pulled on my rubber boots and slipped my coat on without zipping it up. I put the Seraph Blade, water bottle filled with holy oil and a book of matches in a couple of the pockets and then double checked to make sure they were secure and hidden.

I paused before opening the door. How many times was I going to have to do this? Would I always end up having to defend my family from the enemy, never knowing if they were safe or not? Where could we go, what could we do to keep out of harm's way?

Nothing.

I sighed, cleared my mind of all unnecessary thoughts and stepped out onto the porch.

I shivered slightly in the chill wind, despite my jacket and peered around, trying to catch a glimpse of the angel. All I could see were the pickup, the Audi, a stretch of dirt-and-gravel driveway and a yellowish brown patch of lawn.

I remained where I was, trying to scope out a good place to pour the circle of oil.

I took a deep breath. It's now or never.

I walked down the porch steps, strolling casually, looking as relaxed and obtuse as possible.

When the horses noticed my presence they gathered by the paddock gate, shoulder to shoulder, long muzzles stretched out toward me. They wanted back into the barn. I saw that all three had their ears plastered flat against their heads and their nostrils flared. They were nervous.

I ignored the animals and found a patch of darkness beside the barn which would serve our purpose nicely. Bobby would be hidden by both the lack of light and the bulk of the barn itself.

I turned away from the field with the oak tree and took the water bottle with holy oil out of my pocket slowly. Careful not to look over my shoulder and appear suspicious, I uncapped the bottle and poured the oil out in a circle before me.

I could just make out the oil glistening from the driveway light but other than that it was virtually invisible. Perfect.

I leaned casually against the side of the barn and waited.

C'mon, c'mon, I thought impatiently when a minute had passed.

One of the horses whinnied, it sounded like Duncan, and my gaze shot to the paddock. The young horse was tossing his head and flicking his tail playfully.

"I know you're out there," I whispered under my breath and scanned the field and the area around the oak tree in particular.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the picture of ease. I still wasn't sure if the angel was a friend or not but taking our history with the heavenly creatures into account I was willing to bet this one wasn't on good terms with Cas or Abdiel.

I opened my eyes when I heard footsteps approaching. I didn't falter when I saw a strange man strolling toward me with an air of nonchalant purpose.

This is it, this is it; my brain kept repeating over and over.

Something was wrong though, he didn't appear out of thin air like angels usually did… right into the trap but he came walking and I wasn't sure if he'd step into the circle.

The angel didn't look threatening: he wore a three-piece suit of dark grey pants, an unbuttoned suit jacket and dark blue vest and a bright red tie. His shoes were nice but well worn. He wasn't a young guy, but not exactly old and he was handsome in a George Clooney kind of way.

Never trust a man in a red tie, I thought and took a few paces backward, cautiously to try and draw him closer to the circle of holy oil.

The man smiled and stopped a few feet away from me. Coincidentally right on the outer edge of the circle.

"Sam Winchester," he said in a deep voice and I was immediately wary.

"Who are you?" I asked in a tone that made it sound more like a demand than a friendly question. I had learned long ago to never trust people who know your name before you know theirs.

The angel didn't answer my question but looked at the holy oil between us. I had up until then been resisting the urge to look down and implicate myself

"Did you really think I would be so stupid as to fall for that trick?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

There was no point in playing dumb so I answered, "Hey, it's always worked before."

The unknown angel chuckled almost good-naturedly.

"Who are you?" I asked again, willing myself to remain calm.

Lips curled into a grin and his eyes sparkled, "I am Belial… I am the Lord of the Flies."

Oh no. Not Belial, not the one who'd destroyed Angel Fire, New Mexico all those years ago. What had I just gotten myself into? I took a couple of steps backwards. This angel was very, very dangerous. I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I didn't want Bobby to be anywhere near him.

"Lucky big brother is always there to save you," Belial sneered, "But… I don't see him anywhere. Too bad."

I gulped and told myself not to panic.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

He didn't answer right away but appeared to be regarding me with something akin to the fascination one would have when observing an insect.

"I can tell by the look on your face that you're just bursting to talk so go ahead," I gestured and the angel straightened his tie. That damn red tie.

Belial's posture was relaxed, calm. He knew he had the upper hand in this encounter.

The angel didn't answer, wasn't even looking at me in fact. He just stared past me at the windblown grasses that rattled dryly in the cold breeze.

"What do you want?" I asked, irritated that he wasn't forthcoming with the conversation.

"I know who you are," the angel said finally.

"I think we've already covered that," I answered. I was not in the mood to play games.

Belial didn't seem to care.

"I know the truth, Sam Winchester," he said after a long pause.

"What?" I asked vehemently.

"I know the truth of why you are here," he grinned.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I know what Dean did," the man continued, unhurriedly.

Keep him talking Sam, that's right, let him chatter as long as it takes for Bobby to get here.

The angel smiled as if some kind of joke.

"You should not be standing here right now, Sam Winchester," the angel said.

I took a step backwards, away from the enemy.

"You should be in Hell," Belial grinned widely.

Memories of Lucifer's prison came unbidden to me and I continued backing away, shaking my head in hopes of dislodging the horrible visions.

"You should be paying the price for your crimes," the angel said and began walking forward, following me.

Where are you, Bobby? I thought frantically.

"I haven't done anything wrong," I tried to defend myself with words instead of going for the Seraph Blade in my pocket.

"That is not for you to judge," the angel smiled.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I just want to meet Sam Winchester, the boy who is unaware of just how…infamous he actually is," Belial explained.

"I know I'm a target for angels. I know Michael hates me and Raphael would probably like to see me dead. Trust me, I know," I answered.

The Lord of the Flies raised an eyebrow as though surprised.

"You really are a very interesting creature, Sam Winchester," the angel said.

"Who are you working for? Raphael?" I asked.

Anger flashed coldly in Belial's eyes.

"I 'work' for no one!" he shouted and strode forward so that we were only inches away from one another.

"I could kill you right now and no one would care. I'd be a hero, I'd be putting an end to an annoying, insignificant little insect," Belial almost snarled and I hurriedly backed away. We were now at the side of the barn and still there was no sign of Bobby.

"Unfortunately, like a cockroach, you just don't know when to stay dead," the angel mused.

I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. I didn't know what to say.

Belial looked at me expectantly.

"I never asked for any of that! All I ever wanted was to be a normal guy!" I exclaimed.

"It has never mattered what you want. All that has ever mattered was that you fulfilled the destiny that was decided for you," Belial said.

"The world cannot keep turning indefinitely and the End must come sometime," Belial shrugged as if it was no big deal that I didn't want to be involved, that I had never wanted to be involved.

I shook my head.

"I know what you are thinking: why can't someone else do it? Why does it have to be me?" Belial said in a mockingly whiny voice.

"I have never said that," I answered. I had never spoken those words aloud. I had never tried to put the blame on anyone else. I know what I had done and took responsibility for my actions. Somehow I was never really surprised that it had been me and Dean. After everything that had happened to us, it didn't seem too outrageous that we would be the ones to have this thrust upon us.

I was secretly glad that it wasn't someone else. Although I hated it, hated it, I knew I could fight it. Dean and I could and did fight it together. We hadn't allowed ourselves to be sucked into the angels' game.

"Oh, so you've never wished that you were not the Chosen One? You do not wish you hadn't made the leap into Lucifer's Cage? How noble of you," Belial asked.

I hesitated, perhaps a moment too long but I did answer, "No. I would make the same decisions, the same mistakes asbefore."

I thought back to my conversation with Missouri when I had miraculously appeared back in Lawrence three years ago and I remembered her asking me if I would make the same choices if I could go back and I remembered what my answer had been.

Belial chuckled, "I had heard that you were altruistic but I didn't realize that it was so serious."

"What do you want, Belial? Are you just here to talk? Tell me how much I suck? Tell me I'm a freak and a monster and an abomination? Save your breath, I already know what I am," I said. Why was he here in the first place?

The angel didn't answer but smiled like a cat that had just swallowed the canary.

I took a deep breath, heartened somewhat that I wasn't completely defenseless against Belial- I still had the Seraph Blade.

"You are a silly little boy," said the Lord of the Flies, "just an ignorant, silly little boy."

He had said something about Dean, about something Dean had done… what was it? What did Belial know?

As if he had read my thoughts, Belial spoke of the secret he'd been hiding, "Brother Dearest made a deal for you."

Huh.

"I already know that," I answered. He must be talking about Dean's deal with the Crossroads demon after Jake had (literally) stabbed me in the back. I frowned, what did that have to do with anything now? Unless there was someone gunning to see Dean back in Hell for it.

Belial shook his head and tsked, "No, think more recent."

I paused, thinking hard.

Oh no. Not that. I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it.

I gaped at the fallen angel like an idiot, "you mean… the coma… me waking up… Dean…"

Belial smiled knowingly.

"A… a demon deal?" I stammered, heart pounding in my chest. No, there was just no way Dean would make a deal with a demon again, especially with a son on the way. Would he?

Belial chuckled, "No dear boy, Dean learned his lesson a long time ago about making deals with demons. No, he sought out a different source instead."

I know I had planned on keeping the prick talking but this… this was not what I had in mind. Where the hell was Bobby?

"He asked Death himself to spare your life," Belial explained.

A lump grew in my throat and my hands clenched into fists.

"…And what did Death want in return?" I knew you never got something for nothing. So was Dean going to die prematurely because he'd asked the Horseman himself to let me live or was S.J., born on the day I awoke from a seemingly irreversible trauma, scheduled to enter the Pearly Gates all the sooner because of what my brother had done?

"Don't worry, nobody you know had to pay the price," Belial said as though it would make me feel better.

"Than who?" I asked in a whisper.

The fallen angel shrugged. I couldn't believe it. Dean had made a deal with Death to bring me out of the coma in exchange for someone else's life.

"Don't you agree?" said the Lord of the Flies, "Aren't you just a silly little boy?"

Yes, I was a silly little boy, an ignorant, foolish boy for not realizing it sooner. I could believe Dean when he said he didn't know how I survived the Seraph Blade wound but not about being totally innocent when it came to the miraculous recovery from the coma. I knew enough about such things to know that people don't just wake up from three-month comas on their own.

I felt the weight of the Seraph Blade in my jacket pocket and knew I needed to use it.

How could Dean do such a thing? Did he take time to think over his decision or did he just shake the Horseman's hand and tell him he had a deal? Didn't Dean wonder who's life was about to be stolen from them?

I knew what I was in for when we had landed in Jensens Cemetery. I was fully prepared to bear the consequences of my actions. I was ready to die.

Than why had Dean done what he had?

So many questions concerning the past few years of my life swirled around my brain that my head began to ache.

Wait! I thought, maybe Belial is lying. Some angels I had known were not below giving false information to get what they wanted. I calmed down somewhat. I would still talk to Dean when he arrived but for now I had a fallen angel to kill.

Belial looked around, seeming only now to realize that it was still just the two of us.

"What are you doing out here all alone? Aren't you afraid of me?"

I shook my head, "I stopped being afraid of your kind a long time ago."

It was a lie but if he could do it than so could I.

C'mon Bobby, c'mon old man!

I reached into my jacket and pulled out the Seraph Blade as quick as lightning.

Belial wasn't the least bit intimidated and revealed his own blade. Shit.

The fallen angel darted forward suddenly and I jumped back out of reach of the weapon.

I didn't know why he didn't just kill me where I stood. It would have been so easy for him. But maybe he didn't want to kill me. Maybe he wanted to play with me. Like a cat plays with a mouse.

I held my own weapon tightly in my fist, not confident enough to think I could jab at the angel and do much damage. I needed to wait for the right moment to strike.

Belial chuckled deep in his throat and feigned another attack again. I moved back.

This was not going how I planned.

I made no move against the angel but continued to back away while he advanced, menacing the Seraph Blade.

I let out a startled yelp when I fell backwards, landing heavily on my back and the angel moved in. With the reflexes of a snake he was standing over me, Seraph Blade poised to stab. I gasped in agony as the weapon hit my shoulder and my eyes widened in surprise as suddenly both the angel and I were doused in a cold liquid. Thinking quick, I rolled out of the way of the angel and crouched on my knees with my clothes and hair sopping wet and slippery from the liquid.

I fumbled in my pocket for the matches.

Before I could even pull the soggy cardboard mess out the night was illuminated by a flash of orange and an unearthly screech as Belial burnt up in a matter of seconds, leaving nothing to indicate he had been there at all.

Blinking away the afterimage of the fire from my eyes I glanced around and saw the burly shape of Bobby off to my left side.

"What took you so long?" I asked and rubbed my sleeve over my face in an attempt to wipe off some of the oil.

Instead of answering, Bobby instructed, "Get ready. He's not dead and he'll be back. And he'll be pissed."

I tightened my grip on the Seraph Blade as best I could, the weapon slipped in my palm slick with oil and darted my eyes around the gloom, searching for the enemy.

My shoulder burned fiercely from the Blade wound but I ignored it. I had a lot more to worry about at the moment.

I glanced around warily, ready to fight.

"Sam!" I heard Bobby cry out and I went flying through the air, landing hard on the ground.

"You," I heard Belial snarl as I scrambled to my feet.

"You'll die!" the angel continued and suddenly I was doubled over in agony, hot blood dripping out of my mouth and feeling like my insides were on fire.

"Sam! Sam!" I heard Bobby shout as though from miles away and I fell onto my knees.

I choked, blood bubbling up and spilling over my chin, dripping down my throat.

"Belial!" a deep, rich voice shouted out as I fell forward.

Eyes half closed, nearly blind, I could just make out Belial's shiny dress shoes and neatly ironed pants before a pair of dark hiking boots and blue jeans with fraying cuffs.

Warmth spread throughout my body, beginning in my stomach and moving to the tips of my fingers and my toes. I took a deep breath and the pain disappeared- I was no longer dying.

I sat up shakily and looked around. Bobby was standing frozen, staring at the fallen angel and the new visitor.

"I do not answer to Michael!" Belial snapped at the stranger.

Bobby's eye caught mine. You okay, he mouthed and I nodded.

The stranger answered in a haughty voice, "You may not answer to Michael but you will answer to Asmodeus."

Belial looked shocked, well, as shocked as an angel can and disappeared in an instant.

The stranger turned to Bobby and I and smiled.

"Abaddon?" Bobby asked gruffly. Not another fallen angel to deal with.

"Do not trouble yourselves. Asmodeus is no threat; he is under Michael's watchful eye and has been imprisoned," he answered Bobby's one word question.

"Uh, so which one are you?" Bobby continued as I tried to gather myself together.

"I am Hezekiah," he answered, "I am Michael's General."

"Shee-it," Bobby swore.

The angel looked confused, "I am not here to harm you. Belial has disobeyed Michael's orders and will be punished accordingly-"

"Michael's orders?" I interrupted, finding my voice.

"Yes, he wanted you and your brother watched," the angel answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I grew wary again, tightening my grip once more on the Seraph Blade.

From the corner of my eye I saw Bobby shift uncomfortably.

"And is there going to be someone else watching us?" I asked, edging closer to the old hunter.

The angel did not answer and it appeared that his job was done because he vanished in the blink of an eye; the barely perceptible flutter of wings the only sound.

I slumped against Bobby, suddenly exhausted.

My shoulder seared with pain and my left knee shook unsteadily.

"Do you think they're coming back?" I asked Bobby in a whisper.

The old hunter shook his head, "Nah, probably not tonight."

He laid a strong hand on my arm, "Let's go inside and take a look at you."

SPN

Damn but the boy looked exhausted, Bobby thought as Sam sat in a kitchen chair, his button-up shirt open to reveal the Seraph Blade wound in his shoulder.

"I thought something had happened to you," Sam said and Bobby shook his head, biting his lower lip.

"I found a couple of plastic buckets at the back of the barn and poured the oil into them," Bobby explained, "seemed easier than lugging all those heavy clay jars around."

"You were in the barn?" Sam asked, eyes wide. He appeared impressed at Bobby's skill.

"There's still a lot of things you don't know about me, boy," Bobby chuckled good-naturedly.

Sam just shook his head.

Bobby looked at the wound in Sam's shoulder. He was stumped as to what to do. Would the wound heal on its own? Should he try contacting Cas or Abdiel and see if they could do something?

Bobby frowned. Dean had told him about the angel's inability to heal the Seraph Blade wound in Sam's abdomen. The old hunter shrugged. The only thing he could do was clean and wrap the wound and hope for the best.

As Bobby set to work on Sam's shoulder he asked about the boy's other injuries.

"You feeling alright?" Bobby asked, "Thought you were gonna bleed to death on me."

Sam nodded, "Hezekiah stopped the blood. I'm just tired."

"And your knee?" Bobby nodded.

"I think I fucked it up again but it should get better as long as I take it easy for the next few weeks," Sam shrugged and grimaced as the movement hurt his shoulder.

Bobby tied the bandage tight around Sam's arm and grinned humorlessly.

"Just gonna clean up a little more and then call it a night," Sam told him, "You can sleep in the guest bedroom if you'd like."

Bobby chuckled, "Think I'll sit on the couch and wait for Dean to show up."

He really wanted to make sure Belial and Hezekiah didn't come back and try and finish the job.

Sam nodded and Bobby watched as he walked painfully slow up the stairs.

Bobby groaned as his stiff joints protested the movement as he made his way to the couch in the living room.

He thought about what could have… would have happened if he hadn't been fast enough with that holy oil. He was secretly glad that Hezekiah had appeared when he had… Bobby had been sure Sam was a goner that time.

Kid's got nine lives, Bobby shook his head, or else somebody Upstairs must like him.

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest and peered out the front window. The driveway light was still on and he had no inclination to turn it off.

Bobby didn't think he'd get any sleep that night and pondered over the volumes on Sam's bookshelves. He grunted when he saw the texts, they were old classics a lot of them and he was surprised Sam even bothered to read them. Bobby had very few books that weren't about ghosts or demons or other monsters.

Guess the kid's got a lot of free time now, Bobby surmised. Huh, that'd be nice to have.

Bobby was sure that the last regular book he had read was John Steinbeck's East of Eden.

Bobby gulped, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. He had very nearly lost Sam. He didn't know what he would have done if that angel- bastard that he was- hadn't appeared in time to stop Belial. God, what would he have said to Dean? Would he even be alive right now or would that fallen angel have killed him too?

Bobby shook his head. He'd have to talk to the boys in the morning. He hoped that Dean would get his act together and get here soon. He was sure Dean would want to know everything.

SPN

I was tired. Not just from the fight with Belial but from, well, everything. I was tired of constantly worrying about Sarah and the kids, I was tired of not knowing who I could trust, who was lying right to my face.

I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet- I had planned on cleaning up some of the oil that still coated my clothes and hair and skin- but I just didn't seem to have the energy.

My shoulder was burning as though I'd been stabbed with a red-hot iron and my knee was shooting pain in tandem to my hip and my foot.

If you don't move you're gonna end up passed out on the bathroom floor, I told myself but didn't get up.

Belial's words flooded back and I wondered once again if he had been lying or telling the truth. Had Dean made a deal with Death? Why and how? More importantly though, who had paid the price?

I leaned forward and gripped my damp, stringy hair in my hands. I felt like I was going to be sick.

No, no, Dean would never do something like that. Never. Belial had lied- he had just been trying to get to me.

Why was Michael keeping tabs on me? And why had he sent a fallen angel to watch me? What was that son of a bitch up to now? Had Dean been under the same surveillance? Did this even have anything to do with Dean and me or was Heaven already preparing for when Faith and Aaron would be put on the spot?

"Abdiel, I wish you'd talk to me," I whispered out loud, "Why are you silent? Why don't you talk to me? Why don't you tell me anything?"

I sighed sadly when I received no answer.

"Fine, that's fine," I muttered, not really finding anything fine at all.

I felt so powerless. What had just happened only a half an hour ago pretty much showed that Dean and I were not as in control of our own lives as we'd like to be. Despite the fact that we thought we were the masters of our own destiny, it seemed as though we were not. We were still under the angels' scrutiny.

Why did things keep getting more and more wrong? Would Dean and I ever be left alone? Lucifer was dead. He was dead! He was dead! HE WAS DEAD!

No, I thought, not for long. Raphael's trying to put him back together again and restart the Apocalypse. And from what Cas said, Faith and Aaron would be the ones in the hot-seat this time.

I gritted my teeth and curled my hands into fists. There was no way in Hell those fuckers were going to get their hands on my children.

I could feel anger boiling up in my chest- Aaron and Faith were not playthings for a couple of feuding brothers- and I swore that I would do anything, anything to make sure my son and daughter never had to make the choice Dean and I had been forced to.

I relaxed my hands and stared at the palms. It felt like the world was slipping through my fingers and the more I scrabbled to hold it together, the faster it crumbled.

I stood slowly and shuffled toward the bedroom. No longer thinking about Bobby or Dean or Sarah and the kids or Cas or Abdiel or any of the other angels. I fell into bed, not even bothering with the sheets; I just lay on top of them, on my stomach and closed my eyes, drifting to sleep.

W

"Sammy," I heard a familiar voice say somewhere near my head.

"Aw c'mon Dean, let him rest a little longer, Lord knows he needs it," I heard Bobby's gruff reply somewhere farther away, probably from the doorway.

I heard two sets of footsteps retreat from the room and I allowed myself to fall back asleep, grateful to Bobby for speaking up.

Dean made a deal with Death.

I opened my eyes and sat up, my clothes were ruined- the oil had soaked into them in the night and there was no way I'd be able to wash it out- and my skin and hair felt greasy. I rolled my shoulder experimentally and held in a groan as pain shot through the injured one.

Cautiously, I put weight on my right knee and then slowly onto my left- aside from a twinge it seemed perfectly fine- and slipped off my dirty shirt and jeans.

I grabbed a clean pair of pants and a button-up shirt from my dresser and pulled them on. I would need to take a shower sometime but it could wait until later. I wanted to talk to Dean now.

I made my way carefully down the hallway and paused at the steps. I reached out a hand and grabbed to railing- something I rarely ever used- and wished I could just go back to bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

I padded down the stairs slowly and peered around the corner to find Dean and Bobby in the kitchen, each with a mug of coffee in front of them.

My brother stood up immediately and spoke before I could utter a sound:

"What the fuck happened?"

I answered with a question of my own, "Didn't Bobby tell you?"

The old hunter nodded but before he could speak, Dean was talking again.

"Why didn't you wait? Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

"How was I supposed to wait Dean? What would have been the point? What time did you get here anyway?" I argued back.

"A little after two in the morning," Dean said, "And I've been waiting for hours for you to wake up."

"Boy wanted to get you up as soon as he stepped in the house but I told 'im you needed to sleep," Bobby broke into our conversation.

"So you know what happened: Belial attacked-" I began but Dean interrupted.

"And you almost died, choking on your own blood because you had to go in half-cocked," Dean finished the sentence for me.

I frowned, "But Hezekiah arrived and stopped Belial."

"Yeah," Dean said sarcastically, "Another angel… thank God Michael's lackey was here to save the day!"

"Hey, if he hadn't shown up I would be dead, Dean. So what if he's the enemy, Michael must still want us for something if he wasn't about to let Belial kill me," I snapped.

"Why didn't Cas or Abdiel step in though? I thought they were our friends, you know?" Dean said, seemingly taken aback by my anger.

I slumped, "I dunno. Maybe you're right and they are just really busy."

Dean shook his head, "I'd think Abdiel would be all gung-ho about saving your ass… again… for like the third time."

I smiled a little and with that comment Dean and I seemed to be alright again. Trust my brother to make a joke and all thoughts of argument fly out the window.

Dean poured a mug of coffee and handed it to me, "You look like you need this."

"Forget coffee, I need a shower," I said and sipped at the caffeinated drink.

I turned my attention to Bobby, "How're you doing?"

Bobby shrugged, "Got bad. Everything's still in working order."

"Get any sleep?" I asked and Bobby waved a hand, "Me? Sleep after all that? Nah, had my adrenaline pumping… and besides, someone needed to make sure those two angels didn't come poking around again while you were in La La Land."

"How's your shoulder?" Bobby inquired.

"S'okay," I said and rolled my shoulder as though to demonstrate just how okay it was, only to cringe again at the pain.

"Lemme see," Dean reached out.

"I'm fine," I said and moved out of my brother's way.

"C'mon Sam," Dean pressed.

I shook my head and ducked under my brother's hand.

"Don't be such a baby," Dean commented, still advancing on me.

I looked at Bobby, "Leave it alone, Dean."

Dean though, wasn't one to be put off that easily and he made a grab for my shirtsleeve.

I stopped as Dean twisted his hand my sleeve, giving me a quizzical look, probably wondering why I didn't want him to inspect the wound.

"Okay, just leggo of me for a minute," I sighed and Dean complied.

I unbuttoned my shirt and slid my arm free of the sleeve. The bandaging that Bobby had applied the night before was still held firmly in place but it was now stained a rusty-red colour. I hadn't noticed it before as I rushed to change out of my oily clothes.

Dean grimaced and bade me sit down on a chair so he could more easily inspect the wound.

"Bobby, didn't you sew it up or anything," Dean asked the old hunter as he carefully peeled away the bandage.

"Neither of us was in any fit state for me to be playing Doctor with your brother," the old hunter grumbled, "You got a First Aid kit, Sam?"

I nodded, "Under the bathroom sink upstairs."

I heard Dean hiss when he saw the injury.

"Is it really that bad?" I asked, unable to prevent the fear from creeping into my voice.

Now that the wound was uncovered, it began to sting even more than before.

"Should have had more than just a gauze bandage on it," Dean mumbled and started prodding the area experimentally.

I jumped with a yelp, "Jesus, Dean! Get your fingers out of it!"

With his hand on my uninjured shoulder, Dean forced me to remain seated, "I've got to see how deep it is."

"I was stabbed, how deep do you think it is?" I snapped, feeling irritated.

Dean tsked, "Were you planning on leaving it open like this?"

"No!" I argued, "But you heard what Bobby said and I would have dealt with it later. By myself."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "I'm not babying you am I? 'Cause you can tell me and I'll lay off."

I sighed, "No, go ahead."

I felt slightly ashamed at my actions though, realizing that this wasn't the first time I hadn't told Dean about a serious injury in the past- hell, in the past few months- and my knee gave a spasm of pain as if to remind me it was still there.

I heard Bobby stomping down the stairs, red and white First Aid kit tucked under one arm.

"You two finished?" he asked and set the kit down on the kitchen table.

Dean reached over and drew the kit closer, opening it up as he did so.

"Doesn't look like there's any muscle damage," Dean muttered, to himself mostly, I think.

That was a relief, as unlucky as I may be; sometimes I managed to squeak past.

I sat still, gritting my teeth as Dean cleaned the wound with hydrogen peroxide and began to sew it shut.

"Good thing Bobby knows how to tie bandages properly," Dean said, "leaving the wound open like that…"

"I'm sitting right here, Dean," the old hunter grumbled for where he'd taken his seat at the table again.

Dean looked over at Bobby and grinned.

Once my brother was finished with the stitching he wrapped clean gauze around my shoulder.

"Hopefully that heals," Dean mused.

"Like the one before?" I asked pointedly and my brother looked at me for a moment, apparently not sure why I brought up the first Seraph Blade wound.

"Uh yeah," Dean said and washed his hands in the kitchen sink.

"Dean… Belial told me what you did," I said, jumping right in as I put my arm back into the sleeve, buttoned up the shirt and shrugged my shoulders to settle the shirt.

"Did what?" Dean asked, his face looking innocent.

"Made that deal," I said and I heard Bobby made a strangled grunt behind me.

"What? That deal with the Crossroads demon? Why would he bring that up, that was years ago?" Dean asked and dried his hands on a tea towel hanging from the handle of the oven.

Maybe Belial was lying! Maybe he was just trying to get under my skin.

"No, uh, he said something about a deal with the Horseman… when I was in a coma," I continued, less confident now than I had been before.

I gazed intently into my brother's face, trying to see his reaction.

Dean looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled, "You just woke up Sammy."

I smiled back. So Dean hadn't made a deal with Death himself and then lied to me about it.

My brother turned away and poured himself some more coffee.

"I should call Sarah and let her know everything's alright," I said and stood.

"I already phoned her, Sam," Bobby said and I blinked at the old hunter.

"How'd you know where they were?" I asked and Bobby winked.

"Wasn't too hard to figure you'd send them to friends," the old hunter said and I vaguely recalled telling Bobby about Coombs and Gretchen and Ingrid.

"Borrowed your cell phone," Bobby said, "Hope you don't mind."

I shook my head.

"You hungry? I'll make you something," Dean asked.

I wasn't really in the mood to eat but I was sure if I refused my brother would insist I needed to regain my strength or something like that so I nodded.

"When are Sarah and the kids coming back?" I asked Bobby as Dean rummaged around in the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon.

"Told her to stay in town 'til the afternoon, just to be sure," Bobby said and moved to get plates, forks and knives and glasses.

"Did Belial ever say why he was here?" Dean asked as he pulled a frying pan out of the oven and set it on a burner.

"Hezekiah said he'd been ordered by Michael to watch us," I said even though Bobby had probably already told him about that.

"So Belial was just being a good little subordinate?" Dean asked and cracked a couple of eggs into the pan.

"He really wanted to kill me, I think," I answered, "He got pissed when I asked who he was working for."

I saw Dean nod, "So he went rogue."

"I guess," I muttered.

Dean raised a hand and rubbed his chin.

"So, who's this Hezekiah character? Anyone we should worry about?" Dean asked and I shrugged before I realized that my brother's back was still turned.

"I'm not sure… he's all buddy-buddy with Michael though so that can't be good," I answered.

My brother sighed deeply, "There's just too many of 'em… can't keep them straight… don't know who's on our side…"

I nodded, "I wish Cas and Abdiel were here."

I was really starting to get worried about the two angels' silence.

"You don't think anything's happened to them, do you?" I asked suddenly.

"Nah, Cas knows his way around the enemy and Abdiel can take care of himself," Dean assured me.

Bobby looked from Dean to me and back again and grumbled something.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, just thinking that life was a whole lot easier without angels," Bobby said, "You knew pretty much who were the bad guys and who were the good guys."

Dean chuckled, "Not all the time. Sometimes the black and white line blurred."

I thought about Meg and Ruby and how I had, like an idiot, trusted them. I thought about one of the first things Dad had taught me about being a hunter: Don't trust anybody. Pretty much Dad thought the only people worth his trust were his own kin- Dean and I- and sometimes I wasn't even sure about that.

I thought about Gordon Walker and Kubrick, fellow hunters who had turned out to be just as dangerous as any of the monsters Dean and I had gone up against.

Don't trust anyone.

I thought about the vegetarian vampire Lenore and her family. Every instinct had told me to kill her but my ethics had told me that she was not hurting anyone, she did not murder people like Luther and his nest had done. I still felt glad that I had convinced Dean that Lenore should be allowed to live- we hunted monsters because they killed innocent people, not because we thought they should die- and in doing so had discovered Gordon's true colours.

Don't trust anyone.

A few times over the years it seemed as though my brother had taken our father's words to heart far too much and I found myself being labeled 'Untrustworthy'. I did not resent Dean for his lack of trust in me, hell, I knew I couldn't even trust myself a lot of the time but that just exemplified just how true Dad's word had rang.

Don't trust anyone meant don't trust anyone. Even your own brother. Even yourself.

"Hey, Sammy? You still with us?" Dean's question brought me out of my thoughts. I shook my head.

"Yeah," I muttered, "Sorry."

Both Bobby and Dean were staring at me, "You were zoned-out for like, three minutes there. Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the fight?"

Dean turned to Bobby, "Did you see if he hit his head?"

"I'm fine Dean, I was just thinking," I said and Dean looked pacified.

My brother turned back to the stove. I saw that either he or Bobby had taken the toaster out and was browning slices of bread.

Watching the old hunter and Dean move around the kitchen with ease made me feel like I was a guest in my own house. I frowned as once again that 'stranger in my own home' feeling flared up again and I resisted the urge to go to the bathroom and look in the mirror just to make sure I was still me.

We didn't speak as Dean worked and the smell of eggs and bacon and coffee and toast filled the small kitchen.

I slipped back into my own thoughts as the silence continued:

This house no longer felt safe to me. In just hours the one place I'd called home, the one place that had been a home longer than any other I'd known in my life ceased to be a haven to me and my family.

The angels knew where we lived- the enemy knew where we lived- and I knew that Sarah and the kids and I could not remain here.

Looks like I get my wish, I thought bitterly, I wanted to move and now I have a reason.

Moving meant big changes though. Sarah and I would not only be leaving the friends we'd made here in Petite but our jobs as well. I didn't doubt that Sarah would be very worried about the stress the city would put on me despite my assurances that I could handle a crowded metropolis just as well as our sleepy little farming community.

And where were we going to go? How far would we have to run before we left all our enemies in the dust?

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean's voice alerted me and I saw he was peering at me from his place at the stove.

"Oh, yeah," I answered, "Just thinking about what Sarah and I are going to do now."

"And? C'mon I know you've got an idea in there somewhere," Dean pressed and flipped over the bacon with a spatula.

I shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal, "I think it's about time Sarah and I packed up our bags and headed for greener pastures."

Dean chuckled at my turn of phrase and nodded.

"Why don't you move to Indiana? Doesn't get nearly as cold as Montana and it's not completely covered in prairielands," he said casually but what he really meant was 'I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd move closer to me.'

I smiled, "I'll have to talk about it with Sarah first."

"Sure," Dean nodded and grabbed a plate from the table, sliding eggs and bacon and buttered toast onto it before handing it to me.

Yum… I had absolutely no appetite but I grabbed my fork and knife and dug in.

I munched through breakfast quickly- I was really looking forward to that shower- and was putting my dirty dishes in the washer even as Bobby and Dean were sitting down to their meal.

Seeming to know exactly what I had in mind- and really, it wasn't that difficult to figure out- Dean called out to me as I left the kitchen and headed toward the staircase:

"Don't get that bandage wet!"

I sighed, "I know, Dean!"

Sometimes my brother could be worse than a woman for all his mothering and worrying and reminding.

I made my way upstairs and closed the bathroom door behind me. I paused and peered into the mirror above the sink. Same narrow nose, same green eyes, same dark brown hair… same, same, same.

I turned on the shower, as hot as I could stand it and pulled off my button-up shirt and slid my jeans off, stripped off my boxers and stepped under the warm gush of water, ignoring the bandage because, really how was I supposed to shower without getting the bandage soaked?

I'll just change it when I get out; I thought and concentrated only on feeling clean again.

SPN

Before you say anything, I know. I know I lied right to Sam's face but I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth.

I felt bad for denying I had made that deal with Death but I didn't exactly regret that decision.

It wasn't that I was trying to get back at Sam for all the times he'd lied to me; it was just that I jealously guarded my secret and didn't feel that Sam needed to know anything about it.

What good would knowing do anyway? The deal was made, Sam was alive, and it was over. End of story.

I could feel Bobby glaring daggers at me as I told Sam I had had no involvement in his miraculous awakening on February fourth.

When Sam went upstairs I could see that Bobby was nearly bursting to give me a piece of his mind.

"I can't Bobby, not yet," I muttered to the older hunter.

Bobby lifted his hands and then lowered them in a gesture that said, 'it's not my problem.'

"You ever gonna tell him? Huh?" Bobby had to have the final word.

I sighed and rubbed the back of my hair, "I dunno, maybe… what's it matter to you?"

Bobby blinked his light blue eyes at me, "It don't. I just don't want to see you fall out with Sam over this."

I smiled confidently, "We won't. I've got everything under control."

"So you think Sam'll move to Indiana now?" Bobby changed the subject as he mopped up some egg yolk with some toast.

"If I push him hard enough," I said.

Bobby raised his eyebrows, "You just be careful not to push too hard, boy, or you'll end up pushing Sam away."

I sighed in exasperation. I knew how to deal with Sam and I didn't like Bobby reminding me as though I hadn't been taking care of the kid since he was six months old.

As though reading my thoughts, Bobby chimed in, "I just know how you two can get, is all."

I know Bobby was just looking out for us, as he'd always done and I appreciated it, I really did but sometimes the old man needed to remember both Sam and I were adults and give us space.

I finished eating and stood. It was Monday morning and I should have been at the construction site in Indiana, ready to take on whatever problems had cropped up over the weekend but I had told them there was a family emergency (again) and I needed to go to Montana for a few days. The guys were probably glad I was away from work- gave them time to smarten up and fix any mistakes they'd made- and would be happy to see me stay away from the site for the rest of the week.

I was gonna look after Sam's horses, at least I could do something nice for the guy, and headed out to the front hallway. Bobby followed me nonchalantly.

"Want to help?" I asked as I pulled my leather jacket over my shoulders and slipped my feet into my boots.

Bobby chuckled and shook his head, "Knock yourself out. I'm staying inside where it's warm and there's coffee."

"Suit yourself then," I said and opened the front door.

Stepping onto the porch I zipped up my jacket as a chilly wind blew miniscule flakes of snow in my direction.

I made my way over the frost-encrusted, brown grass and saw that the horses were already at the paddock gate.

"Hey guys, remember me?" I reached out a hand for the animals to sniff.

The big gelding, Marlow, stretched his long neck out arthritically and snuffled his velvet soft muzzle against my palm. He gave a quiet whinny which I took to be an affirmation.

The foal jumped straight into the air and pushed against the wooden fence, huffing out clouds of breath condensed in the cold air and seemed to be almost grumbling.

The red mare stood between the gelding and her foal, her ears laid back against her skull and her nostrils flared widely.

I put my hand on the latch to open the gate and received a sharp bite from the ginger female.

"Ow! Jesus, what's the matter with you?" I scolded and held my hand up to my face to see if she had drawn blood.

Reaching out more cautiously, I unhooked the gate and it swung open wide with a gust of icy wind.

The gelding pushed past me, his shaggy bay-coloured coat rubbing against my jacket as he stepped out.

The mare, just like her namesake from Black Beauty really was a bitch and rushed out of the paddock, nearly knocking me over in her haste.

The foal obediently followed his mother. It was only then that I realized that the horses were not headed toward the barn as I had seen them go before when Sam was out with them. They stepped into the driveway and were looking curiously around.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath and I jogged forward to shepherd the animals in the right direction.

The foal, Duncan, sniffed at the tail end of Sam's pickup truck and danced around on spindly legs for a moment before taking off down the drive, toward the road.

"No, no, no," I said aloud and stumbled after the young animal.

Thinking that we were playing a game, the stupid horse waited until I was almost close enough to touch him before he leaped just beyond my reach.

How does Sam manage to control them?

"C'mon Duncan," I coaxed, lowering my voice so that I spoke softly.

The foal wasn't finished playing though. He ran closer and closer to the road.

From the corner of my eye I caught a streak of red just in time to see Ginger run past me and across the road.

Looking back toward the house I saw that Marlow hadn't move from his position at the side of the driveway, cropping the tough, dried grass there.

I beckoned the two runaways and made clicking noises I had heard ranchers and cowboys make on TV to attract their horses and get them to do what they wanted.

Duncan just stared at me with defiance clear in his large eyes and his mother apparently had come down with a case of selective hearing because she was slowly moving farther and farther away from the road.

My fear right then was that a truck would come barreling down the road and scare Ginger into the prairies or hit the younger horse who continued to inch closer and closer to the blacktop.

I contemplated going inside and getting my brother but I didn't want him to know that I had let the animals out without thinking, putting them in danger and generally not using my brain.

Horses were not like dogs, you couldn't just whistle and speak excitedly, proffer a steak and they'd come running. I came to the conclusion that the horses didn't know me all too well and so I wasn't going to get them to listen to me. They'd only listen to Sam because they knew him and trusted him. I was a practical stranger, my brother was not.

I jumped when I heard the front door of the house slam and turned to see my brother stomp down the stairs. He grabbed Marlow's bridle and the old horse followed him placidly as he made his way across the lawn to me.

"Dean, what happened? What're you doing?" Sam asked, sounding more anxious about the animals than angry at me.

"Thought I'd look after the horses for you," I answered sheepishly, embarrassed at my stupidity.

Sam sighed and ran his free hand through his damp hair, "hold onto Marlow, will you?"

My brother forced the big animal's head closer to me and I reached up and slid my fingers underneath the bridle at the horse's cheek.

Marlow regarded me with soft, dark brown eyes that seemed to say, 'You have no idea what you're doing, do you?'

"Ah, shut up," I muttered to the horse and nearly had my shoulder ripped from its socket as the gelding strained his head toward the tempting grass at my feet.

I watched as my brother walked confidently up to Duncan who seemed to have realized that play-time was over. Sam reached out a hand and the foal walked over to him, head ducked as though he knew he'd been doing something bad.

Sam grabbed the foal's mane and petted the animal's silky nose. He peered across the road and saw Ginger was watching him.

My brother began leading the foal back toward me and the old-timer and the female followed as if attached to her offspring by an invisible leash.

Sam walked past me, still holding tight to Duncan's mane and motioned for me to follow along with Marlow.

I sighed; I knew Sam was annoyed, if not royally pissed off at me.

With his free hand Sam opened one of the barn's wide doors and released the foal who stepped onto the straw-covered, concrete floor of the barn.

Narrowly avoiding having my foot crushed by Ginger as she followed Duncan, I led Marlow inside and let go of the bridle, flexing my numb fingers.

I peered into the stalls and saw that they had yet to be cleaned out.

"You want to help out with the horses, Dean?" Sam asked in a deceptively calm voice.

"Yeah, that's what I came out here to do," I answered, thinking that he'd get me to brush them of fill their food and water.

Instead Sam handed me a shovel, "Here you go."

I blinked at my brother for a moment. Yeah, he was mad at me.

I bit back an angry retort and opened the door of the first stall.

"You have to scoop out all of the old straw and pile it in that wheelbarrow," Sam pointed to a rusted barrow with chipped paint that sat near the back of the barn.

"Sure thing, boss," I tipped him a rude salute and slipped off my leather jacket so it wouldn't get dirty and went to work.

While I shoveled shit, Sam brushed the horse's shaggy winter coats and checked their hooves for cracks or stones.

Sam didn't talk to me and I guess that I should have waited for him before I tried to help with the horses. Messing with the animals was like messing with family.

Made sense though, I'd be irate if someone thought they'd be able to take care of Copper. I mean, Lisa was very picky when it came to finding a dog-sitter for our furry son and we had had some pretty bad experiences with people who thought they could handle our huge, rambunctious dog only to discover they couldn't. I remembered vividly Copper almost getting hit by a car because one such sitter hadn't put his leash on properly. Needless to say, the girl was promptly fired.

"Sam," I began, "look, I'm sorry."

Sam nodded, "I know."

"I just thought I could, you know, 'Horse Whisper' them and they'd follow me right into the barn," I tried to explain only to gain a withering glare from my brother.

"Don't Dean," Sam said and turned his back to me.

I frowned. Something was bugging Sam and I had an idea it was more than just me being an idiot.

"Sam, is something wrong?" I ventured and paused in my work, resting my chin against the hand curled around the shovel's handle.

I saw Sam's shoulders tense up but he didn't answer right away.

I bit my cheek, hoping I hadn't just ruined my chance at having a chick-flick moment.

Sam chuckled humorlessly, "Why would anything be wrong? I mean, the angels are still after us… after Faith and Aaron… I almost got killed and now we have to move away from our home. But, yeah, everything is absolutely perfect."

I slumped. I should have known that's what was bothering my brother.

"I know your upset but you don't have to be a dick about it," I grumbled under my breath and Sam whipped around to face me.

"I'm not allowed to be a dick? Huh? Everything is coming apart at the seams and I'm supposed to just shrug it off and act like it's going to be fine?" Sam snapped and the horses shifted uncomfortably.

I raised my hands in surrender, "I didn't mean it like that."

Sam glared at me for a moment, his green eyes lit with fire before his shoulders sagged and he leaned against one of the stalls.

He put a shaking hand to his brow, pushing his bangs away from his eyes.

"I just… I just wish this was all over… I'm just tired Dean… I'm tired of everything and everyone," Sam whispered, the anger in his voice replaced by sadness.

I could sympathize. What I couldn't do though, was admit that I felt exactly the same.

"This will end, Sam, you know it will. We'll get through this and Faith and Aaron will grow up to live healthy, happy, angel-free lives," I said confidently.

Sam nodded and his bangs fell down to obscure his eyes again.

"Thanks Dean… for trying to help out with the horses," he muttered and after another moment's pause I continued mucking out the stalls.

W

I told myself not to worry about Sam. The kid had come close to getting killed only the night before and of course that was bound to make anyone a little bitchy.

Sarah and the kids arrived at the farm exactly at one-thirty in the afternoon, getting a ride from Coombs Jenkins in his old, blue Sedan.

To watch my brother's reunion with his wife you'd think they'd been separated for years instead of just a day.

Sarah practically leaped into Sam's arms and hugged him tightly- too tightly because I saw him grimace as his wife squeezed his shoulders- and practically smothered his face in kisses.

Bobby and I shifted our gaze to the kids, a little bit embarrassed at the public display of affection.

"Grandpa!" Faith cried and ran to Bobby.

"Hey, kiddo," Bobby answered and lifted the beaming two-year old up in his arms.

I had taken Aaron so Sarah and Sam could have their little Love Fest and I stared down at my nephew's sparkling brown eyes and rosy cheeks.

"Dadadada!" Aaron announced and I chuckled.

The Sheriff of Petite stood awkwardly off to one side.

"Would you like to stay for a little while, Coombs?" Sarah asked once she had released Sam.

"Thank you kindly ma'am but I've gotta get goin' back to the station," the Sheriff said and ducked out after tipping his hat to Sam and nodding to Bobby and I.

"I was so worried about you," Sarah was telling her husband and hit him in the chest with one fist, "Don't you ever do that to me again, Sam Winchester, and I mean it. I will not sit on the sidelines again."

Sarah sounded angry but I could see a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I'll remember that next time our lives are in danger," Sam promised and took his daughter from Bobby.

The little girl hugged her father around the neck and snuggled her head beneath his chin.

I saw a look of pure bliss cross Sam's face before he turned serious again.

"Sarah, you and I need to talk," he said and Sarah nodded as if she had suspected as much.

"How long are you two staying?" Sarah asked Bobby and I at the same time.

"I'd better head back to Sioux Falls," Bobby apologized, looking like he'd rather spend time with his adoptive grandkids than driving for hours on end again.

"That's too bad," Sarah said and sounded like she meant it.

Her grey eyes turned to me, "Dean?"

"If you'll put up with me I can head out tomorrow morning," I answered.

Sarah beamed, "That's great!"

"Don't get to see you nearly enough," she finished and we all said good-bye to a very reluctant Bobby.

The old hunter nodded and promised to call once he arrived at his place. Sarah laid a slim hand on Bobby's arm as he shrugged on his vest, "Thank you so much for keeping Sam safe."

Bobby smiled through his reddish beard, "Someone's gotta make sure that boy stays in one piece for ya."

Sarah chuckled and gave Bobby a peck on the cheek.

We all watched as Bobby stepped out onto the front porch, stamped down the steps and followed the road toward his car until we couldn't see him any longer.

Sarah turned to Sam, "I want to know everything that happened last night."

SPN

Castiel's eyes widened in shock. He had been completely in the dark about Belial and his partnership with Michael.

The trench coat-clad angel shifted in his seat but did not utter a sound as the archangel raged.

"You were told not to touch them, Belial! You were only to watch them!" Michael snarled at the fallen angel.

"What? Are you jealous you couldn't get your hands on the Winchesters yourself?" Belial countered, not in the slightest bit phased by his sibling.

Michael's gaze quickly shifted to Castiel, "They are more use to me alive than dead, unfortunately, and I intend to keep it that way."

Belial bowed with a smirk on his face, "Than it will not happen again, my liege."

Castiel almost cringed at the sarcasm dripping from his fallen brother's tongue.

Michael drew himself to his full height, "No, it will not. You have betrayed my confidence Belial and for that you will be punished. I will not take disobedience lightly and you will be made an example of to show our siblings that I am not going to tolerate such actions from anyone."

As the archangel spoke that last word his gaze traveled to Castiel's face and the lower-ranking angel knew Michael was speaking as much to Belial as to him.

The smug look was wiped from the fallen angel's face and he vanished in an attempt to escape.

Castiel was surprised- a thing that rarely happened- when Belial appeared once more in Michael's boardroom with Puriel and Zaapiel frog-marching him toward the archangel.

Castiel held his breath and didn't even blink as he watched and waited to see what Michael was about to do.

The archangel stepped up to the squirming fallen angel, "This is my kingdom now, Belial; did you really think you could escape me?"

The angel fought in vain to wrench his arms from his siblings' grasp and spat at the archangel.

Castiel watched as Michael reached toward Belial with one outstretched hand.

The fallen angel seemed to realize something very bad was about to happen and he tried to back up, only to be held in place by his two siblings.

"Michael! You wouldn't!" Belial cried and Castiel actually saw fear cross the fallen angel's features.

What was Michael going to do? Castiel wondered; fear also blooming in his mind.

The archangel advanced, hand still stretched out and Belial fought even harder, his motions becoming wild and panicked.

"No! Don't! Please, brother!" Belial begged, yes, the Lord of the Flies, the one who had destroyed that town in New Mexico leaving only one survivor, was reduced to begging.

Castiel stood silently and began to back away from the scene before him.

Michael was now standing directly before Belial and thrust his fist into the fallen angel's chest.

Belial thrashed and writhed in agony- he cried out in a voice that chilled Castiel's blood.

Removing his hand from the angel's abdomen, Michael grinned smugly as he clutched a bright white ball of light- Belial's Grace.

Castiel stared horror-struck at the archangel. The fallen angel slumped forward bonelessly, his breathing ragged, his eyes half-closed.

Castiel knew that angels could tear out their own Grace- Anna had done so- but never, never had an angel ripped out a sibling's Grace by force. Such a heinous action was not committed, even in war. Lucifer had not even suffered such a fate due to its sacrilegious nature.

What had Michael done? Was he insane? Had his arrogance crossed the point of no return? Did the archangel fancy himself God now?

"Get him out of my sight," Michael indicated Belial, now little better than a human, and Puriel and Zaapiel disappeared with the captive.

Castiel watched as Michael slipped Belial's Grace casually into his pocket and turned his blue-eyed gaze on him.

The lower-ranking angel did not dare move, did not dare speak.

Michael stepped past Castiel, pausing to put a hand on his new partner's shoulder and squeeze it painfully.

That simple gesture spoke loud and clear to Castiel- do not cross Michael or suffer the same fate.

The archangel disappeared and Castiel raised one shaking hand to his eyes, the other bracing him against the table.

He had made a terrible mistake, he feared, a mistake that might turn deadly.

Michael was out of control- he would not stop and he would destroy anyone who dared get in his way.

Castiel hated to even consider it, but perhaps the only angel who could stop Michael's tyranny was Lucifer. Every fiber in Castiel's being revolted against the idea of allying himself with Raphael and Lucifer but maybe that was his only choice.

The angel felt trapped, unable to move an inch in either direction for fear of the repercussions.

Father, how can you know what is happening and do nothing to stop it? Do you want Heaven to fall into chaos?

As Castiel had come to expect, he received no answer.

He was at a total loss as to what he was going to do.

Whatever Castiel decided though, the Winchester brothers' safety was his top priority.

I must not let them down, Castiel told himself and grew pensive; knowing that whatever choice he did make would surely come back to Dean and his brother.

It must only be a means to an end and not the end itself, Castiel thought and disappeared from the boardroom.


	33. The Sky Is Falling

"That house looks nice," Sarah peered over my shoulder at the picture of a bungalow painted pale yellow with whitewashed shutters and full flowerbeds.

"Hmm," I muttered and scrolled down to examine photos of interior.

"What? You don't like it?" Sarah looked at me.

I shrugged, "well…"

"Well what?" Sarah asked, eyebrow raised and grey eyes flashing, "We've already looked at ten houses!"

Chagrined, I answered, "You know more about this house stuff than I do… I mean for most of my life if a place had a bed and four walls than it was a palace… I don't really know what to look for in a house, you know?"

Sarah blinked at me and then laughed. I gave her a good-natured scowl.

"All right," Sarah gave in, "but I do need your input too, you know? I'm not the only one who's going to be living in the house."

I smiled, "in that case we should ask the kids too. No doubt Faith will want a Disney Princess themed house with a room that has nothing in it but jellybeans."

Sarah laughed, "Stop it!"

She sneezed violently and wheezed but continued to chuckle.

I chuckled and once Sarah had calmed down enough she spoke again, "When I was a little girl I wanted a house with a swimming pool inside it."

I raised my eyebrows, "what? You're folks didn't get you a swimming pool? We had a full-sized movie theater in our place."

Sarah set a fist on my shoulder and smiled, "really though, what did you want when you were a kid?"

I frowned, thinking; I had always wanted my own bedroom when I was younger, I wanted a room that didn't smell like Pine-Sol or bleach or mould. I wanted a house that didn't have questionable stains on the carpets, fist-sized holes in the drywall, and a bar fridge that only contained beer and Jack Daniels.

I shook my head and didn't answer Sarah's question.

"C'mon," Sarah pressed and then she frowned at the look on my face.

"I'm sorry," she said and I smiled, "It's alright."

Sure I might not have had a home to call my own and some of the places Dad left my brother and me at were on the wrong side of the tracks but at least I had a roof over my head all the time so I can't really complain.

Sarah nodded and peered at the pictures of the house again.

"No basement… I kind of want a basement in our new house," Sarah mused and leaned over me to click on the pictures for the next listing.

"And now you're being picky… at this rate we're never going to find a house," I commented.

Sarah chuckled and pulled up a photo of a brownstone house with black ceramic shingles on the roof and white trim around the windows.

"Looks like a gingerbread house," I muttered and Sarah clicked on the link to the interior pictures.

This time Sarah's expression turned to one of genuine annoyance and her grey eyes narrowed, "why don't you wake Faith up from her nap? If that girl sleeps any longer she will never go to bed tonight."

"Okay," I acquiesced and left Sarah to search through the hundreds of houses for sale in the state of Indiana.

I trudged up the stairs, feeling rather useless, and headed down the hall to my daughter's pink bedroom.

It had been a week since Belial's attack and I was still getting over the injuries- my knee ached almost constantly and I had started using the cane again and the wound in my shoulder wasn't healing as quickly as it should have been- and generally feeling like I was a mess. Dean phoned nearly every day, checking up on me but I really didn't mind. I was glad to hear his voice. The day after the attack, when Dean had stayed with us, he had apologized over and over again for ignoring my calls, denouncing himself as an idiot. He said that he should have known better, that he should have known I'd never forget about Jess or Mom. I had told Dean not to worry about it but it was obvious that he couldn't let it go. He'd claimed that he had almost gotten me killed- that if he had just called me back he would have realized that someone was playing him and he would have been flying to Montana ASAP- and that was inexcusable.

I quietly opened Faith's door and peered inside. She was curled up underneath a mountain of pink blankets and stuffed animals. Her tiny arms hugged a bright green and yellow frog to her chest.

I padded inside and sat down on the edge of the bed. Faith didn't stir and I just watched her for a moment. I looked at her dark curls, her chubby, rosy cheeks and her mouth curved into a smile. I wondered what my daughter was dreaming about as her blue-violet eyes moved beneath their lids. I didn't have the heart to wake Faith up just then so I looked around her room- at the piles of plush toys, the low bookshelf with children's literature barely touched, a child-sized desk strewn with Crayons and pieces of construction paper- and hoped that Faith could keep her childhood innocence for a long, long time.

I reached down and brushed some bangs away from Faith's forehead and she opened her eyes.

"Daddy," she smiled and giggled, pushing my hand away and sitting up.

"Hey, Sweetheart," I whispered and stood up, giving Faith room to slip out of bed.

Still holding her frog toy, Faith's small, pink sock-clad feet hit the carpeted floor and she took off running.

I turned around, slightly alarmed.

"Aaaaarrrrooon!" she cried as she padded rapidly down the hall to her brother's nursery.

I followed Faith into Aaron's room and found her peered through the bars of the crib at her sleeping brother.

"Shhh, Daddy," Faith put a finger to her mouth, "Aaron's a 'sleepin'".

I peered over the edge of the crib and saw that Aaron was laying on his back, one arm up by his mouth as though he had fallen asleep in just before he could suck his thumb and the other lay by his side, hand in a loose fist. His black hair was sticking up in the front and I couldn't help but smile.

"Let's leave Aaron alone so he can sleep some more," I whispered and ushered Faith out of the room gently.

I picked Faith up and held her in my good arm, using the injured one to support her back and made my way downstairs.

"What's Mom feeding you, girl? You're getting heavy!" I asked and set Faith down at the bottom of the steps.

Faith giggled and pushed one tiny hand against my leg, "Tag-tag-tag-tag!"

I sighed but smiled. Faith ran into the living room and waited for me to catch up with her.

I walked a little bit faster than usual, aware of my knee but not wanting to disappoint Faith.

Playing 'Tag' for Faith meant that she would run somewhere in the house, wait for me to catch her and pick her up to hold her upside down or 'do the airplane' which meant spinning her around as she held her arms out like she was flying.

Faith smiled at me from behind the couch, ready to play. She crouched down and giggled expectantly.

I moved around the furniture and grabbed Faith, picking her up and holding her upside down. She laughed out loud, enjoying the game and I dumped her onto the couch.

Getting up right away, Faith ran into the kitchen and I followed. Sarah was still sitting at the table, my laptop in front of her and she paused to smooth down our daughter's frizzy, knotty hair.

"Don't roughhouse too much, Sam," Sarah told me without looking up.

I smiled, "yes, Mom."

Now Sarah cut her eyes at me, "I mean it Sam; I don't want you hurting yourself."

I knew my limits, I knew how far I could go before my knee or my shoulder gave me grief. I wasn't about to deny Faith just because I was a little banged up.

"I'll take it easy," I promised my wife and she smiled, knowing I was just trying to placate her.

"Mommy, c'n I go see the horsies?" Faith asked and looked up with her own version of the 'puppy eyes'.

Don't look at me like that- I didn't teach her how to do it! Faith learned that trick all on her own.

"If Dad says its okay," Sarah answered and Faith turned her gaze on me. Luckily for me, I'm immune to such tricks.

But immune or not I couldn't say no to my daughter. I sighed and smiled, "okay, honey."

Faith cried out happily and ran to the fridge, tugging on the child-proof handle.

I chuckled at my daughter's enthusiasm and opened the fridge, taking out three apples.

Faith squealed with delight and ran to the front hallway, already trying to pull on her pink winter boots by herself.

Sarah came out and helped Faith with her footwear while I slipped my feet into a pair of sneakers and shrugged my jacket over my shoulders. I grabbed our daughter's fuzzy pink coat from its hanger and knelt down to help her into it.

I took Faith's hand in my own, placing the apples in the pockets of my jacket for safekeeping, and we stepped out onto the porch.

It had snowed the night before and the ground was blanketed in white. The snow wasn't all that deep, only a few inches and I could make out my footprints from earlier that morning when I had let the horses out.

Faith tugged on my hand impatiently, "c'mon Daddy!"

I stepped down the stairs, Faith jumping down them one at a time and landing in the snow with a gleeful look.

"Faith? How old are you going to be next month?" I asked and my daughter counted on her fingers before holding up three.

"Thwee!" she smiled and ran to the paddock.

"Horsies!" Faith called out, fully expecting the animals to come at her command, "horsies, horsies, horsies!"

I crossed to the fence and picked Faith up; she obediently put her booted feet on one of the fence rails and leaned her abdomen into a higher one, balancing while I stood behind her.

Ginger, closest to the fence, gave a loud whinny and began making her way over to us.

"Hi Ginger!" Faith waved and wiggled with joy.

I chuckled and took an apple from my pocket, handed it to my daughter, "remember how to hold it?"

"Uh huh," Faith affirmed and held her palm flat, the piece fruit sitting precariously on her tiny hand.

The red mare stretched her neck out, large brown eyes fixed on Faith and took the apple up gently in her mouth.

Faith giggled as the horse crunched happily on the treat. She reached out her hand and patted the mare's velvet-soft nose.

Duncan appeared next, running up from further in the field, tail held high and ears forward.

He whinnied in an excited sounding way. Duncan nudged his long nose against Faith's chest- I braced her so she wouldn't fall over- and I pulled out the second apple.

I handed the piece of fruit to Faith again and watched as she fed the foal.

Marlow came last, moving ever so slowly. I kept the last apple for him. The old gelding stared at me knowingly with one large, intelligent eye and I handed him the offering.

As he crunched away at the apple, I stroked Marlow's bony nose.

Faith giggled and wiggled against me. I looked down at my daughter and thought about Michael and Lucifer being interested in her and Aaron.

Such thoughts were never far from my mind nowadays. Faith turned her head up and smiled at me.

I couldn't imagine my daughter becoming a vessel for either one of those douchebags. I clenched my hands into fists and gritted my teeth.

"Daddy, you 'kay?" Faith asked, her violet eyes filled with worry. She reached out one warm hand and placed it on my chest.

"Yeah, honey," I muttered, wondering what kind of life she and Aaron were going to have.

"C'n we go in?" Faith asked and I nodded, picking her up and walked back to the house. Faith wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a peck on the cheek.

I smiled at Faith, "let's go see if Mom will make us some hot chocolate, eh?"

"Yeah!" Faith hugged me tighter and buried her cheek against my shoulder.

We stepped inside and I helped Faith with her boots and coat before slipping off my own.

"Mommy, Mommy! C'n I have hot choc?" Faith shouted and ran into the kitchen.

I followed my daughter into the kitchen and smiled at Sarah. She closed the laptop, "I'll make some for all of us."

"Let me get Aaron up from his nap, okay?" I asked, "The kid's slept long enough. Surprised he hasn't woken up yet."

Sarah smiled and kissed me on the lips, "takes after his Uncle Dean."

I chuckled and made my way upstairs.

Making my way down the hall I stepped into Aaron's nursery and peered at my son, sound asleep in his crib.

I reached down and, supporting his head with one hand, picked Aaron up and headed back downstairs.

I peered curiously at my son and noticed heat radiating off him- more heat than was natural.

"Sarah," I called as I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, "I think Aaron's sick."

"What? Oh no!" Sarah looked frightened and took our son in her arms.

"I'm going to call Dr. Lipchitz," Sarah told me and moved into the living room to dial the number for our pediatrician in Butte.

I went into the kitchen to keep an eye on Faith while Sarah talked to the doctor. Our daughter was sitting at the table, a mug of warm hot chocolate half-drank in front of her and a circle of the stuff around her mouth.

I pulled a chair out and all but collapsed into it. My leg twinged painfully and my shoulder ached, reminding me that 'happily ever after' did not in fact, last forever. Real life would always catch up.

"You 'kay, Daddy?" Faith asked and licked her lips.

I smiled, "Yeah, Sweetheart."

Sarah came in, holding our still-sleeping son, "I have an appointment for tomorrow morning but the receptionist said to bring him in tonight if there's any change."

"Will you hold him while I get the thermometer?" Sarah asked, now sounding distracted.

I held my hands out and accepted Aaron while my wife made her way upstairs to get the children's thermometer.

Aaron's cheeks were very red, the rest of his face pale in comparison. Sarah still had that cold and I wondered if maybe she had passed it on to our son.

His dark brown eyes opened but they were glassy and unfocused. Aaron's face scrunched up and he began to cry. I held him against my good shoulder and rubbed his back.

"What's wrong wi' Aaron?" Faith asked and came to stand beside me, looking up at her brother.

"He's not feeling well," I answered.

I lowered Aaron in my arms and began to rock him. He continued to cry and squirmed restlessly when Sarah came back and slid the tip of the thermometer into his ear.

"Hm," Sarah muttered, "he's warm but not really bad."

"Still keep an eye on him though," I said and we both knew one of us would stay up with the little guy the entire night.

Sarah nodded and sat a mug of hot chocolate before me- I had completely forgotten the reason Faith and I had come back inside in the first place.

I picked up the mug in one hand- the other supporting Aaron's head- but didn't drink. I wasn't in the mood for hot chocolate now.

W

That night found me in Sarah's rocking chair in Aaron's nursery, keeping a sharp eye over our son as he slept fitfully in his crib.

I was exhausted and my eyes kept slipping closed. I straightened up in the chair and rubbed my face, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes.

I slouched in the chair and my eyelids slid closed of their own accord.

A couple of minutes won't hurt, I thought just before I fell into a deep slumber...

… Snowflakes fell fat and wet around me. A chilly breeze cut through my clothes as thought I wasn't wearing any. I gripped my jacket tighter to my body and curled my arms around my chest for warmth. It was dark but a bloated, yellow moon illuminated the snow-covered landscape around me. Besides the snow, there was nothing- no trees or rocks or streams. Just snow in sweeping dunes and valleys.

Where am I? I wondered and watched my breath condense into mist as I exhaled. I turned around and around, thinking I was in Montana- close to home. I saw nothing but the icy night sky and snow.

I walked forward a few paces and my feet, instead of landing on solid ground, found no purchase- the earth beneath me gave way and I was falling.

I tumbled down, too scared even to cry out, falling at breakneck speed, waiting for the bone-shattering meeting with the bottom.

I landed but not on anything solid. With a great splash I was dumped into a huge lake It was very deep, my feet couldn't touch the bottom and boiling. I was not alone, hundreds, maybe thousands of other people were also floundering pitifully in the water. Men, women and children cried and screamed, begging for help- their voices mingling into one great cacophony of agony. I writhed in pain as the heated water soaked me from head to toe. I gasped and saw flashes of orange and red and yellow through my closed eyelids. The lake was burning! I was burning! The water was foul, acrid and bitter- like gasoline. I opened my mouth to cry out for help but only got a mouthful of the horrid, burning liquid. A woman close by grabbed my shoulders, pushing me down beneath the surface of the lake as she forced herself up. I struggled to loosen the woman's grip but her fingers dug into me with the strength borne of desperation.

I choked, trying to spit the water out, flailing around, trying desperately to escape. I shoved at the woman, pried her away from me and practically flung her away. I slid my eyes open and saw the woman turn to look at me, and my heart clenched at the sight of her curly blonde hair and blue eyes peering out from her red, blistered face. I tore my gaze away, thinking, 'not Jessica, not Jessica, not Jessica' and saw only the lake, fire spread out on top of it as far as the horizon. I shuddered. I could smell burnt flesh and my stomach roiled with nausea.

Over the crackle and snap of the fire and the swish of the waves I heard a female voice speaking, reciting a poem.

"Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire…"

"H-help!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. The voice paused but did not respond.

"Please! Please!" I called out, choking and coughing up blood as more of the acidic water entered my mouth, gushing down my throat.

A child clawed at me and I saw it was Faith.

"Nooo," I moaned and pushed through the thrashing bodies, struggling to get away from my loved ones.

Something grabbed my ankle and I barely had time to take a breath before I was pulled under the scalding water again.

I struggled against the tug of the assailant and gasped in shock when I was flung up on solid ice. I cracked open my burning eyes and saw I was laying on top of an ice-covered body of water. It was smooth as glass and bitingly cold. I shivered, coughing up the last of the acidic water and pulled myself into a sitting position. The freezing wind took my breath away, my wet hair becoming icicles and my skin beginning to sting with frost-bite. Steam rose from me as my over-heated body cooled rapidly. It was difficult to see very far across the ice, the horizon grey and murky.

"But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to know that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice."

I stood stiffly and began to trudge slowly forward. I didn't see any point in staying where I was, only to freeze to death. I walked a few paces and stopped when I saw a shape appear out of the mist. I forced my legs to move faster as I approached.

"H-hey," I called hopefully, "help… h-help m-me."

I stopped abruptly when the figure came into view. It was a woman with long black hair, frozen solid, like a statue. I inched forward, I saw the woman's exposed skin was a whitish-grey, her lips blue, her grey eyes wide. Snowflakes had settled in her eyelashes and eyebrows, had landed in her hair. She held one hand out before her, as though seeking succor.

"S-Sarah," I breathed. I closed my eyes momentarily and opened them again. The figure remained.

I turned away from the nightmarish statue. I couldn't do this. I couldn't see my loved ones die and be helpless to stop it.

I began to run, slowly, painfully, my legs protesting the movement. The freezing air filled my lungs and settled heavily, like lead. Tears leaked from my eyes only to solidify.

"Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice…"

The feminine voice began to chant that poem again and I cried out desperately, begging her not to finish because I knew where I was going once she stopped speaking.

"Sam!"

"Leave me alone!" I shouted and held my hands out before myself as I ran blindly.

"Sam!"

I gasped and coughed, my lungs begging me to rest.

"Noooo," I cried out, feeling heat already lapping at my chest and face like waves of scorching liquid fire…

"Sam! Sam?" I heard my name being whispered loudly and a hand on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes and blinked. It was still dark outside. I jolted awake, my heart pounding in my chest.

Sarah was leaning over me, her hair brushing my neck and chest as her grey eyes peered fearfully into my face.

"You were shouting in your sleep," Sarah explained. I could hear Aaron crying- a hoarse, wet sound that couldn't be healthy- and forced myself to sit up.

"I, uh, damn it!" I stammered and wiped a hand over my sweaty face. I gasped for air and gripped the arms of the rocking chair with white knuckles.

I shook my head to clear it and Sarah moved away, picked Aaron up and began to rock him from side to side, trying to calm him.

"Shit… shit, Sarah… I'm sorry," I muttered, still trying to chase away the vestiges of the nightmare.

"Sam-" Sarah snapped and then shook her head in exasperation.

"You know what… maybe I should stay here for the rest of the night," Sarah said, "you need to rest… you're still hurt and sleeping sitting up can't be good."

I hesitated for a moment, "Okay, okay."

I knew when Sarah was annoyed with me and I stood uneasily- my knee and shoulder throbbed in time with my pulse- and made my way into the hallway but instead of going to the bedroom, I limped down the stairs and lay down on the couch.

I lay on my back, legs on the arm of the couch and head cushioned by a couple of throw pillows.

I sighed, staring at the ceiling that was a navy blue in the darkness and felt useless.

I'm a useless husband and a useless father. I was never made for this life, was I?

Can't even make sure my sick son is okay and I manage to piss off my wife. Great job Sam!

I closed my eyes, trying to find sleep, trying to calm down. Don't worry, you and Sarah have tons of arguments and they're always forgotten by the next morning.

That realization made me feel a little bit better- Sarah and I never stayed angry at each other for very long- and I hoped that when I woke up in the morning everything would be forgiven.

I slid my eyes open, my shoulder and knee still complained, and wished that I had been paying more attention to Aaron. I mean, even retired I still had all the instincts and training from my years as a hunter- I should have woken up at the sound of a mouse farting, for Christ's sake!

No, I thought, I was having a nightmare… I couldn't wake up… maybe I had even woken Aaron up. Now I felt like a dick just thinking about it. I sat up and rubbed my face with both hands. Taking a deep breath, I moved through the living room to the front hall, pausing to slip on my boots and a coat. I unlocked and opened the front door, sneaking silently outside and headed to the barn.

What's happening to me? I wondered as I cracked open one of the barn doors and stepped inside, found a empty stall filled with clean hay and lay down.

Something is wrong, I thought as I curled up in the straw and closed my eyes- the familiar scents of the horses and the barn comforting- and finally found the sleep I'd been looking for.

SPN

I was glad that Sam and Sarah were planning to move away from Montana- maybe a little too glad- and hoped that they would decide to come to Indiana. It wasn't like I was asking them to live in Cicero- which would have been great- but I knew that Sam liked privacy and even if we were in the same State I'd be happy.

I felt bad that Sam had gotten hurt, almost killed, and that I hadn't been there to help him. I knew that Bobby had been with him but just wasn't the same.

I ground my teeth in frustration every time I thought about Belial and the angels in general. Why the fuck couldn't they leave us alone?

It unnerved me that Michael had been loosed from the Cage, that Raphael was on a Lucifer rescue mission and that the two brothers may eventually turn their sights on my niece and nephew.

I knew that Sam would fight to his last breath to protect Aaron and Faith but I didn't doubt that Michael and Lucifer would be clever, devious and use underhanded means to get what they wanted.

My hands tightened into fists at the thought of those assholes sucking Sam's kids into the equation. Lucifer wasn't even supposed to be alive! Sam had killed him, God damn it! He was supposed to stay dead! Raphael had no fucking right to be attempting a resurrection!

"Don't these douchebags know when to quit?" I muttered out loud.

I was startled from the rerun of Jerry Springer I was watching when my phone rang.

I pulled my cell from my pocket and saw it was Lisa.

"Hey," I answered and turned down the television volume.

"I'm glad I caught you, can you take the boys Wednesday night?" Lisa asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Okay," I said slowly. No way was I going to pass up the opportunity of seeing my boys, "why?"

"I'm going out to dinner with a co-worker and I can't get the regular babysitter," Lisa explained.

"Who're you eating with? Megan? Hillary?" I asked, thinking of some of Lisa's girlfriends from her work.

"Uh no, actually it's Wayne," Lisa corrected.

"Wayne… that's an unusual name for a girl," I joked.

"Dean-" Lisa began but I interrupted her.

"It's been, what, two and half, three weeks since the divorce papers went through?" I asked in a casual tone laced with indignation.

"Dean, please don't do this," Lisa begged.

"I would have thought you'd wait until December at least to start dating," I continued.

Lisa made an exasperated noise, "It's just dinner and drinks Dean! It's not like he's going to propose to me!"

"Oh so it's okay to go out for casual drinks and dinner with a male co-worker just days after you're legally divorced!" I exclaimed as thought I hadn't known such a thing was possible.

"If I had known that, well, I'd have gone for drinks and dinner with that cute blonde who lives down the hall from me weeks ago!"

"Dean! You're not being fair!" Lisa snapped.

"Lisa, really, what are the boys supposed to think? What's S.J. supposed to think? What are you doing seeing another man so soon after the divorce?" I asked with vehemence.

"Don't you tell me how to raise my children, Dean Winchester!" Lisa snarled.

"Hey! S.J. is my kid too. Ben's as good as mine! I thought we were teaching the boys to respect women and if you're going to be sleeping with everyone with a penis that you work with, well, that kind of defeats the purpose doesn't it?" I countered.

"DEAN!" Lisa practically screamed into the phone, "What I do is my business now. We are not married anymore! Remember that!"

"I don't really care what you do Lisa but I do care about the impact it will have on S.J. and Ben," I growled.

"Ugh, you're unbelievable!" Lisa said in shock.

"I'll be picking the boys up from school on Wednesday," I said in a detached voice and closed my phone.

I clenched my hands into fists. Had Lisa just been waiting for the moment she was no longer officially Mrs. Dean Winchester to let loose and act like she was on an episode of Girls Gone Wild?

What the fuck had happened to our relationship?

It had deteriorated so quickly, so rapidly that I couldn't gather up all the pieces in time.

I knew that my relationship with Lisa had been tenuous since Sam had returned from Hell but there was no way I was going to blame my brother for the fact that my marriage had failed. No way in Hell was I ever going to believe that Sam had been the lynchpin in the breakdown of my relationship with Lisa.

Of course I knew that Lisa had always been uneasy about my brother. But that should not have affected us. I mean, I tried very hard to keep my hunting life of the past away from my white-picket future.

I ran a hand through my hair. I didn't know anymore. I just didn't care. Lisa and I were over, the reason was irrelevant. It was a little late to go back and try and make amends, to try and erase the problem because I did feel, deep down that it did have something to do with my brother. And I'm sorry but if I had to choose between Lisa and Sam it would be Sam, every single time. I'd just have to go along with this, grin and bear it for as long as it took because I wouldn't make a scene in front of my boys. I would be the adult. I would be the mature, responsible one.

SPN

Castiel knew he had a very tough decision to make. He had to make a decision he never thought he would have to. Michael was growing more and more dangerous as time wore on and the trench coat-clad angel was rapidly running out of options. And friends.

Castiel took a deep breath, disappeared from Heaven, using 'angel teleportation' as Dean called it as he searched discreetly for Raphael.

There was no other way around it, the angel lamented. Michael had to be stopped before he destroyed Heaven.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Castiel reminded himself bitterly and thought, for the millionth time, about what he was doing.

The trench coat-wearing angel steeled himself. No one was safe with Michael in power and Castiel knew that difficult choices needed to be made and made quickly.

Castiel only thought about Sam and Dean and Abdiel- they would suffer the most under Michael- and the angel would not stand idly by and watch while his brother did as he pleased.

Please forgive me for what I am about to do, Castiel prayed, feeling as though he was being torn in two. He knew he needed to protect the Winchesters but to do so he was going to assist in the resurrection of one of their greatest adversaries.

No one had said it was going to be easy.

The angel found the one he sought sitting atop a high mountain peak. The archangel appeared to be simply gazing out at the snow-covered ranges about him but Castiel knew differently.

Castiel lit on the snowy pinnacle a few feet from Raphael. A merciless wind tugged at the angels threatening to pull them from their icy perch. Castiel's trench coat whipped around him and the tails of Raphael's suit blew out behind him like dark streamers.

Without turning to the lower-ranking angel, Raphael spoke "I will admit I am surprised to see you here, Castiel."

The archangel's voice was deep and rich, strong and dripping with authority.

"Brother, I need to speak to you," Castiel said softly, the wind pulling the words from his mouth even as he uttered them, but he knew Raphael had heard.

The dark angel turned around, his face a mask of anger.

"How dare you seek me now!" Raphael snapped.

Castiel lowered his gaze but didn't feel the least bit submissive to his sibling.

"Why are you here Castiel? Has Heaven lost its luster already?" Raphael sneered.

"Indeed it has," Castiel affirmed and Raphael sniffed indifferently.

"I always knew you would be more familiar with the humans," the archangel spoke of the beings as though they were slugs or an equally disgusting type of insect, "you are just like Gabriel, Abdiel."

Castiel ignored the comment.

"I have come to assist in your endeavor, brother," Castiel spoke up before he lost his nerve. He was doing this for Sam and Dean in the long run.

Raphael rumbled a rich laugh, "You are offering to help me? Are you aware of my endeavor as you call it?"

Castiel blinked at the archangel's patronizing tone as though bewildered by it, "You mean to resurrect our late, fallen brother."

Raphael looked impressed, whether in regards to the fact that Castiel knew what he was up to or that he was willing to aid him in his task, the lower-ranking angel did not know.

The archangel's gaze turned stormy, suspicious, "why are you offering your assistance?"

Castiel didn't speak for a moment.

Raphael waited, he was patient.

"Michael has grown mad with power," Castiel chose his words carefully.

"And whose fault is that?" Raphael asked.

Castiel shrugged, a very human gesture, and the archangel seemed not to understand and so he spoke, "If you are insinuating that I had something to do with Michael's descent into madness, I assure you I am innocent."

Raphael smiled, showing teeth, "Ah, but brother, you and that traitor Abdiel released Michael, did you not?"

Castiel did not deny the accusation. Michael had been released from Lucifer's prison with the intent that he would banish Raphael from Heaven and the plan had not gone array. Perhaps Castiel had been wrong in seeking the archangel, knowing that Raphael would have nursed a grudge against him.

"Michael tore Belial's Grace out," Castiel spoke the words slowly, reluctantly as though they were as evil as the action they denoted.

Raphael's dark eyes grew wide but other than that reaction he did not appear shocked.

"There is only one who is strong enough to defeat Michael," Castiel continued, taking advantage of the archangel's silence.

Raphael composed himself, "And you want to help resurrect Lucifer so that he can destroy Michael?"

Castiel thought that Raphael sounded skeptical about this idea.

"Right now Michael is the greatest threat," Castiel said, "he cannot be allowed to go on as he is. He will destroy Heaven, tear our siblings apart and mold our Father's empire in his own image."

Even Raphael could appreciate the seriousness of such a situation.

The archangel appeared to be considering Castiel's offer. Although distanced from Heaven, Raphael still felt its warmth (fore it would always call to the angel) and he knew that if Michael laid it to waste; its destruction would send Raphael into oblivion, divested of his rank and Grace. Raphael could not take that chance. He was far too proud to let Michael have his way in their Father's kingdom- a kingdom which Raphael himself yearned to rule.

"What do you want in return?" Castiel asked. He knew that the archangel would not allow him to help for free.

"Sam Winchester," the reply came without thought.

Surely Raphael knew that Castiel would never go through with that bargain.

The trench coat-clad angel bristled, "Sam Winchester is not Lucifer's puppet, Raphael."

The archangel didn't even blink, "I am aware that the human's offspring might also be suitable vessels for either Michael or Lucifer… when the time comes-"

Castiel interrupted, "Than what use to you is the boy?"

Raphael smiled but did not answer. Castiel suppressed a shudder.

"Sam Winchester will guard his children against them, you know. They will not acquiesce so easily," Castiel told the archangel.

"They are vessels, just like their father and his brother and although not the most adequate fit, they will serve their purpose if need be," Raphael waved a dark hand, lazily.

Castiel gritted his teeth. He hated how the angel spoke of Sam and Dean, of Sam's children as though they were inanimate objects or material possessions to be used at the angels' discretion, and not the living, breathing, thinking humans they were. The vessels were not chattel for angels who imagined themselves their masters.

Castiel silently thanked his Father that He had designed the vessels so that the angels needed permission to enter them. Castiel knew that his Father's intention had been to teach the angel's humility and kindness toward the descendents of Adam and Eve; even if most of the time it was overshadowed by pride and greed.

Raphael shook his head, "All of this could have been adverted, Castiel, if only you had abstained from interfering."

Castiel didn't reply.

"Think about it, think about what it could be like if you had allowed Lucifer to succeed as it should have been," Raphael spoke, more to himself now than Castiel but the lower-ranking angel took his brother's words to heart.

If Lucifer had been allowed to win, Castiel thought, Sam would be his slave right now and Dean… Dean and would probably be dead.

"Do you wish to rescind your offer?" Raphael asked, a sneer curving his lips.

"No, brother," Castiel spoke ever so softly, as though if he spoke louder, the guilt in his heart would hurt even more so than it already did.

This is only a means to an end, Castiel thought. But what end?

SPN

S.J. ran to the truck when he saw me, his blue and yellow backpack bumping up and down comically as he made his way over. Ben moved at a more dignified pace.

I bent down and picked up S.J. as he simultaneously leapt into my arms and hugged me.

"How do you feel about pizza and a movie?" I asked, still holding S.J.

"Yeah!" the kid exclaimed as though that was the greatest combination since peanut butter and jam and I set him down.

I unlocked the truck and Ben slipped into the front passenger seat. S.J. clambered over the older boy to sit in the middle.

"Put your seatbelt on, S.J." Ben instructed and he complied.

I turned the key in the ignition and headed toward my condo. Lisa had called again to tell me that I could take the boys to school the next morning. Her manner had been cold and distant as she spoke and I guessed Lisa was still pissed at me for calling it as I saw it.

"I hope we do this every Wednesday!" S.J. exclaimed excitedly.

Not me, I thought; knowing what it meant if I got the boys every Wednesday. I made a face and Ben glanced at me with a bemused expression. I rearranged my face into a smile and Ben pulled his GameBoy or whatever you call it out of his backpack.

"So, what do you boys want to watch?" I asked in a conversational tone and turned on the radio in the truck. It sucked not to have a cassette player in the pickup but Cicero's classic rock station was decent.

Bob Dylan came on, singing 'Times They Are A-Changin' and I turned the station- Sam's more a fan of the guy than I am- and just shut the radio off. I should be talking to the boys; I only get to see them on weekends now.

"Ben, how was school?" I asked as I took a shortcut to the condo.

"Boring," he shrugged, eyes glued to the Game Boy.

"Your Mom let's you bring that to class?" I asked now, curious as to why Ben even had the device with him.

He shrugged, "She said it was okay as long as I didn't play with during a lesson."

"Huh," I muttered, more to myself.

"Dad," S.J. couldn't go two minutes without being the center of attention.

"Yeah, Bud?" I asked, glancing quickly at my son –stunned at how much he looked like I did at that age- and back to the road.

"Is it true you and Uncle Sam are superheroes?" the question came unexpectedly and I took my eyes off the road.

"Who told you?" I didn't deny it, I don't know why, maybe it was because S.J. was only three years old and he'd asked the question so matter-of-factly; like it was the most natural thing in the world to ask of his father.

I peered from the corner of my eye at Ben, he was trying to catch his brother's attention but stopped when he saw me looking, an embarrassed expression plastered on his face.

"Benny of course!" S.J. informed me. Who else?

S.J. had started calling his brother Benny and somehow it reminded me of whenever I called Sam 'Sammy'.

Ben waved his hands at S.J. helplessly for a moment (his GameBoy temporarily forgotten) before hitting his forehead with his palm.

"Ben, what did you tell S.J.?" I asked seriously.

"Nuthin' much, Dean," Ben muttered.

"Okay, what little tidbit of information did you give S.J.?" I rephrased the question.

Ben glared at me for a moment, his brown eyes angry, and snapped "You don't know what it's like not being able to tell anybody the truth."

Oh, yes I do. I thought of all the times when, as a kid, I'd wanted to tell someone- especially Sam when we were really young- about Dad hunting down monsters but knew where that could get me if I did. Either no one would believe me, think I was making up stories to get attention or I'd have Child Protective Services knocking on the door.

So I never uttered a word. Sam had never uttered a word- at least if he had no one had believed him- and we both went through the days pretending our father was a traveling salesman or something like that. Maybe it would have been better if Sam and I had had someone we could talk to about it- certainly not Dad- and get some pretty bad stuff off our chests.

I looked at S.J. whose hazel eyes peered expectantly into mine, eager for the answer to his question.

I pulled the car up to the curb- we were still in a residential area- and gave S.J. a hard, though compassionate look.

"Yes, it's true. Uncle Sam and I are superheroes but you cannot tell anyone," I told the boy and I saw Ben nodding behind him.

"'Cause Ben tol' me you n' Uncle Sam saved the whole world!" S.J. was grinning, exuberant that his Dad was a real live superhero.

I raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah, well, Ben and I are going to have to talk about this later."

Ben gave me a 'Why me?' look and slumped down in the seat, arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face.

"S.J. listen to me, okay. You have to keep this a secret, do you understand?" I asked the little boy.

He nodded vigorously.

"Whenever someone asks what my job is, you tell them I'm a construction worker, okay?" I prompted, "And Uncle Sam is a librarian."

"Oh, you have secret iden… idedities, like Superman," S.J. reasoned and smiled proudly.

"Exactly, and no one can know that we're really heroes," I said as though that was what I'd been trying to get at all along.

S.J. nodded solemnly, "so I can't tell Billy or Rick or Petey?"

"Not even them," the trio were S.J.'s best friends and I was sure he told them everything.

S.J. appeared to be considering this for a moment, "can I tell Copper?"

I grinned, "Yes, you can tell Copper."

Hey, it wasn't like the dog was going to go behind my back and tell all his friends that his pet human was a superhero.

W

I wanted to call Lisa. I wanted to know how her evening had been. I wanted to know exactly what she had been doing. I know she had said her and Wayne were just going for dinner and drinks between friends but, as a guy myself, I knew that Wayne probably had other things on his mind than food.

Just drop it Dean, I told myself, you're not married to Lisa anymore. What she does is up to her.

I knew that I couldn't be involved in Lisa's social life anymore, other than what she initiated with me, but it still bothered me that she was so calm and easy-going about the divorce.

"Dad! Put the movie in!" S.J.'s complaint brought me back and I nodded, crouched in front of the DVD player with a disk in my hand.

S.J. was sitting on the couch, a plate with a slice of cheese pizza on the coffee table before him, looking up at the television expectantly.

"Sorry guys," I muttered but smiled at the boys- Ben still looked pissed at me for giving him heck and we had yet to have our talk- and got ready for a boring two and a half hours of The Amazing Spider-Man.

You should enjoy the mundane while it lasts, I told myself as I sat back in a chair and dug into my own pizza. Sooner or later Lucy and Mikey are gonna come for Sam's kids and you're gonna wanna be there when they do; you'll wanna help Sammy fight off those dicks.

I peered at Ben and S.J. as they ate their dinner and watched the T.V. thinking how glad I was that they were safe from the angels.

Not that I wouldn't defend Faith and Aaron as if they were my own kids. I thought that I'd fight even harder because they were Sam's children and God knew the guy deserved some good in his life; it was complete bullshit that the angels wanted to take that happiness away from my brother.

"Dean? Are you okay?" I looked up to see Ben staring at me. I realized I had my hands clenched into fists and my jaw ached as though I'd been grinding my teeth together.

"I'm done! C'n I have s'more?" S.J.'s voice interrupted. He waved the plate around for emphasis.

"Don't worry about it Ben. Go get your brother more pizza," I muttered and sat back, no longer hungry.

Ben did as I asked, but he still looked at me curiously as he sat down, no longer paying attention to the movie.

I played around with the idea of calling Sam. I decided it wouldn't hurt- I could see how he was coming along with house hunting- and made a mental note to phone when the boys were asleep.

Instead of watching the movie with the boys I wandered around the condo, put the breakfast and lunch dishes away, made my bed and made sure the tiny guest bedroom was okay for Ben and S.J. Much to Ben's exasperation there was only one guest bed so he would have to share it with his younger brother- but, I reminded him, it was only for the night- and really, he'd gotten used to it from the weekends they'd spent with me. If Ben really had a problem with it, he could always sleep on the couch. But he never did.

"Dean, do you want to talk?" Ben surprised me as I was tugging a pullover sweater on, feeling a little bit cold in my shirt and too lazy to turn up the thermostat- it really wasn't cold enough to be having the heater pumping yet- and I turned to peer at the boy.

I sat down on my bed, "What about?"

Ben remained standing.

"I'm sorry I told S.J. about you and Sam," Ben muttered.

"No harm done," I shrugged, "just make sure you don't tell anyone else."

"No! Of course not! Don't worry about it. No one would believe me anyway," Ben insisted.

I nodded and stretched.

"You're worried, aren't you?" the boy was a keen observer.

I smiled, "It's not anything you need to be concerned about, Ben."

Ben stepped further into the bedroom, "I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. I can handle whatever's dished out at me."

"I know you're not but your Mom would kill me if I told you anything," I told him.

Ben glowered, "This isn't about Mom and you know it."

I sighed, "Ben, I'm not going to tell you."

There was no way I was going to drag the boys into Sam and my problem if I could help it. I was determined to keep Ben and S.J. (especially S.J. out of the loop).

"C'mon Dean! I know about monsters! I remember the Changelings you and Sam saved me from!" Ben exclaimed, still gnawing at that same bone.

"Shhh!" I hissed, afraid S.J. would hear.

Ben let out an annoyed 'humph' and sat down finally.

"Okay, I am worried but it isn't anything you need to worry about, got it?" I told him seriously, "You're still just a kid. All you have to be concerned about is your school and sports and your girlfriend."

I reached out and ruffled the kid's dark brown hair and he pulled away but had a smile on his face, "I don't have any girlfriends."

I grinned, "Than that's one less thing to worry about."

There was a pause as we both drifted into our own thoughts.

"We good?" I asked, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

"We're good, Dean," Ben confirmed and stood.

The kid's brow furrowed and his lips pursed, "But promise me one thing, 'kay?"

"What?" I asked in a neutral tone.

"When I'm older, if you and Sam need it, you'll let me help," Ben asked, "You won't keep me in the dark."

I gave a soft smile. Of course I had no intention of involving Ben in any future hunts if there were any- Sam and I were still retired, damn it- but I nodded, "we'll see."

Seemingly satisfied Ben walked out of the bedroom, probably back to check on his brother.

I shook my head and sighed. That kid's gonna be the death of me, I thought with a grim smile.

I stood and wandered back to the living room. S.J. had been enjoying his pizza- he had sauce all around his mouth and cheese on his chin- and was watching the movie as though riveted to the screen.

"Finished, guys?" I asked and the duo nodded.

I picked up the dirty plates and headed into the kitchen, put the leftovers into the fridge and set the dishes in the sink to clean later.

Deciding I should spend some quality time with the kids, I sat down on the couch beside S.J., handing him a napkin as I did so.

"You'll never attract any girls looking like that," I told him and the little boy giggled, thinking no doubt that girls still had cooties.

I settled in for the night, trying to relax and not worry about things that would happen years from now (or so a little angel had informed my brother and I) and made an effort to pretend I was a regular ex-husband spending time with his boys on a school night.

SPN

While Sarah was taking Aaron to the pediatrician's I stayed to look after Faith. My daughter spent the better part of the morning proclaiming her sudden dislike of Lucky Charms- which she had refused to eat- and demanded waffles instead.

Sarah, having spent the rest of the night with Aaron, was in no mood for Faith's games.

"Sam, please do something," Sarah instructed in a cross voice, rubbing at her temple, still not completely over her own cold.

I dumped the soggy cereal mess into the trash and promised to take Faith out for waffles.

"Oh, that's great Sam; make me out to be the bad guy!" Sarah snapped and I held back the urge to sigh.

I picked Faith up and carried her into the living room, "why don't we read a book?"

I looked through the collection on the shelves and decided to try out a Dr. Seuss book.

Sitting back on the couch beside Faith I showed her a copy of Green Eggs and Ham.

Faith looked at me, perhaps wondering why I was going to read her a kid's book but didn't protest- perhaps she was aware of her mother's short temper that morning.

"I do not like them Sam I am, I do not like green eggs and ham," I recited and Faith smiled up at me.

"That's what Mommy calls you, Daddy… is the book 'bout you?" Faith asked and I chuckled.

W

"I do not like 'em Sam I am, I do not like green eggs n' ham," Faith repeated over and over as I drove into town, making a bee-line for the tiny diner that pretty much only saw the locals.

"I wouln' eat 'em with a mouse, I wouln' eat 'em in a house," Faith continued, peering out the window at the snow-covered prairieland around us.

"Daddy, c'n I get green eggs n' ham?" Faith turned her large blue eyes on me and I smiled.

"I don't think they have green eggs and ham at the diner," I answered, "what happened to the waffles you wanted?"

Faith shrugged, "I like waffles too."

I parked in the tiny, nearly deserted lot and unbuckled Faith from her seat. She seemed to have gotten over the green eggs and ham thing because she now chanted, "Waffles, waffles, I love waffles…"

My daughter held my hand tightly, eager for the treat of having breakfast in a restaurant. The bell tinkled as we stepped inside. A gust of warm air greeted us and Faith let go of my hand to run to a booth.

I saw Helen was waitressing- she was a friend of Ingrid Jenkins'- and the young woman smiled when she saw Faith climb up onto the bench seat.

I followed my daughter and sat down across from her. Helen came over with menus and water.

"How are you this morning Mr. Winchester?" Helen asked. She was tall, yet slightly plump with an olive complexion, tightly curled black hair and dark brown eyes. She had a small mole at the corner of her right eye.

"I'm great," I answered with a smile, "Huh, not too busy in here this morning, is it?"

Helen shook her head, "Only regulars, as usual."

She turned to Faith, "Hi there Sweetheart."

"Hi," Faith said shyly, ducking down so that her eyes peeped over the edge of the table.

Helen chuckled and took her notepad out, "What can I get you to start with?"

"Coffee for me," I said, "And how about some chocolate milk for Faith."

"Okay, coming right up," Helen smiled and made her way back toward the kitchen.

Once Helen was far enough away, Faith peeped up and giggled. I chuckled and shook my head.

W

Faith's waffles went down easily, she slathered them in syrup and munched away at the sticky mess, likely to be bouncing off the walls in a couple of hours, but what the heck, I could treat my kids sometimes couldn't I?

Back home Faith plopped down in her room, settling in for a long game with her stuffed animals. I went into the living room and took up a copy of Owen Wister's The Virginian and flipped through it, not really reading.

I set the book aside and sighed. I rubbed a hand over my face- I was tired- and blinked blearily. I knew I couldn't sleep though, not with Faith upstairs and Sarah in Butte with Aaron.

Instead of drifting off the Dream Land I went into the kitchen and made myself a pot of coffee.

With a mug of fresh joe in hand I made my way upstairs to check on Faith. She was sitting with only her favourite stuffed animals in a circle around her- pink plastic cups and saucers and knives sat in front of each member of the circle.

Faith saw me from the hallway, "C'm play with me, Daddy!"

How could I resist?

I went into my daughter's room and she flung a blue elephant and a bright yellow duck to one side so I had room to sit down.

I crossed my legs, my left knee gave a twinge but I ignored it. Faith smiled up at me, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness. She slid a saucer and cup across to me.

"Do you like tea?" Faith asked as she poured imaginary Earl Grey into my cup.

"I love tea," I answered and Faith giggled.

W

I had just tucked Faith in for a nap when I heard the front door open and the sound of Sarah's familiar footsteps on the hardwood in the foyer.

"Hi, we're home," Sarah called. I stepped over to the top of the staircase.

"Hey, Faith's down for a nap. How'd it go with Dr. Lipchitz?" I asked as I made my way downstairs. Sarah was holding a sleeping Aaron in her arms.

"He said Aaron's got a little bit of the flu and he told me just to give him a quarter of a child's Tylenol and make sure he drinks a lot of fluids," Sarah answered, looking relieved, "And I'm to come back immediately if anything changes."

My shoulders slumped with my own relief, "That's good."

"I'll just put Aaron in his play pen and come join you," Sarah made her way into the living room and I walked into the kitchen, put water in the kettle and set it to boil so Sarah could have some tea.

Sarah sat down on one of the kitchen chairs; she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Sam, I'm sorry about the other night," She spoke quietly, "What I did was uncalled for."

"Don't apologize," I told her, even thought I was kind of glad she was, "You were just worried about Aaron."

Sarah shook her head, "But you're my husband, you're part of my family as well and I can't forget that. We're a team, and I just pushed you away."

I reached out and gripped Sarah's hand, "You were just trying to protect Aaron. I understand that."

Sarah smiled but said, "I don't want to lose you, Sam."

The kettle was whistling so I stood and poured the hot water into a mug, adding a tea bag and brought it over to the table for Sarah.

"I'm not going anywhere," I told my wife as she stirred the tea bag around with a spoon, "Let's face it, you're stuck with me."

Sarah chuckled, her grey eyes half-lidded and sipped her tea.

"I hope I am," she muttered in a slightly husky voice and I knew that everything was good between us again.

SPN

I didn't call Sam like I'd intended. After the boys had gone to bed I got a visit from Emma (you remember her, right?) and we sat at the kitchen table, drinking beers and just chatting. Well, Emma did most of the chatting and I just listened.

"I know it's late, but, I was getting a little bit lonely," Emma's plump face grew red with embarrassment.

"That's alright," I said and took a long drink from my beer can.

"Munchkin's okay but sometimes I just need human company, you know?" Emma continued, speaking of her cat.

"You should get yourself a cat, Dean," Emma suggested, "They're low maintenance and friendly-"

I chuckled but shook my head, "Have you ever seen a single guy with a cat?"

Emma thought for a moment and then shook her head, "No, no I haven't… not unless the girlfriend's left it."

Okay, so maybe Emma wasn't really the first girl I'd choose to sleep with but she really was affable, genuine and bubbly. I guessed we could be friends at least.

After a couple of more drinks, Emma went back across the hall, and I wandered to my bedroom, suddenly tired.

I sat on my bed, rubbing my face with my hands, feeling the stubble on my chin and trying to remember to shave in the morning. I set my alarm extra early, ready to take the boys to school in the morning and then book it to work.

I sighed and slipped out of my jeans, pulled my shirt over my head. This is what my life has been reduced to: taking kids to school, arguing with my ex-wife over the phone about her extra-curricular activities, and supervising a bunch of construction workers. But hey, who am I to complain? I'm not hunting anymore and that was my decision. No one made that choice for me. I had promised Sam long ago that'd I'd give it up and I stuck with it. This was my life now and I'd be damned it I would give it up for anything.


	34. Drive Away

I nodded along with Sarah as the realtor spoke. The house was our fifth to tour that day and I was not impressed. I thought the sprawling home looked like the one from those 'Nightmare on Elm Street' movies, you know, that big white house with the red door, too many windows in the front and low slanting dark green roof?

I wasn't really paying attention to what the real estate agent was saying- as long as it had four walls and a roof that was perfect for me- though I tried to look interested anyway, if only to keep up appearances.

Sarah knew more about buying houses than I did. I would have been perfectly content to watch the kids but my wife had insisted I come along, with a shake of her head and the comment, 'I'm not the only one who's going to be living in the house Sam, and I need your input too.'

The realtor unlocked the door and ushered Sarah and I inside. The foyer was large, with the staircase that led upstairs running directly off it.

"There are hardwood floors in this front hallway, the dining room and the upstairs hallway," The real estate agent was saying and Sarah nodded.

I peered around as the agent spoke to my wife- the house looked pretty much like all the others we'd looked at- I couldn't discern anything special about it although the realtor was really excited to show it.

I wandered away from the duo and slid my hand into my pocket. We were staying with Dean while we house hunted- Aaron and Faith were with Coombs and his family- and my brother had slipped me an old EMF detector on the sly with a shit-eating grin.

At first I had been doubtful about the device but after the first house we'd toured, I turned the detector on and suddenly felt a lot better about picking a house. Dean knew what he was doing- who would want to live in a haunted house?

I thumbed the ON button and heard the familiar low static sound- nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the kitchen- and looked back at the realtor and Sarah now entering the room.

"The cabinets are old but they are in good condition and all the appliances are new," the realtor simpered and I felt the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

I clenched the hand not in my pocket into a tight fist.

Breathe Sam, I told myself, calm down.

Whatever Aaron had caught had traveled through the family and I was the next person it landed on. It had to be some sort of flu-bug because within days of our son's return from the pediatrician's I was suffering from the whole gamut of symptoms- I even spent most of one day in particular retching into the toilet- and only succeeded in getting a handful of hours of sleep (the sleep I did manage to snag had been riddled with nightmares). Now I was irritable and on edge, despite the meds I was popping and not too keen on socializing.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Sam, are you alright?" Sarah asked and I looked up. Both my wife and the realtor were giving me worried glances.

"Oh, yeah, just a little headache," I muttered and smiled to show I was A-OK.

"Care to take a look upstairs?" Mr. Real Estate Agent prompted and I trudged after them.

I didn't pay attention to Sarah and the agent as they peered into the three bedrooms- Sarah exclaimed at how Aaron and Faith would love the two children's rooms (one was already painted a light pink, the other a bright yellow) and commented on the bathroom that needed updating.

"What year did you say this house was built in?" I spoke up, interrupting their conversation.

"Nineteen sixty-five," The real estate agent answered, "But you have to agree it is in good condition and the upgrades are a bonus too-"

I stopped paying attention again.

"Let's see the basement, shall we?" The agent suggested and we made our way back downstairs, Sarah giving me a curious look as we followed the realtor.

"You're up to something," She whispered, half playfully half accusingly.

I gave Sarah my bed innocent look, topping it off with the 'puppy dog eyes' that I knew would disarm her.

"I'm just no good at this stuff," I whispered back so the realtor wouldn't hear.

"Sam-" Sarah began to protest but I shook my head.

"The last time I was in a real house- besides the one we have now- I was six months old," I told her.

Sarah gave me a sympathetic look, she reached out and touched my arm, "This will be our last tour of the day; I'm getting tired of this anyway, all the houses are starting to look the same to me."

I smiled and tried not to look too relieved.

Maybe I was a little paranoid about haunted houses but I guess it came with the territory, you never knew- especially with the older homes- and wouldn't that be ironic? A hunter taking up residence in a haunted house?

Once outside again it seemed easier to breathe. The realtor shook Sarah's hand and mine and told us to call if we liked any of the houses we had seen so far.

My wife and I climbed into our rental car and drove back to Dean's place. We were looking at houses in a city called Sheridan, only about a thirty minute drive from Cicero and close enough to keep my brother happy. I had refused to actually live in Cicero, I still wanted some distance between us and that seemed to agree with everyone.

Sarah drove while I stared out the window. Sheridan was nice- it wasn't too big and was filled with quiet residential neighbourhoods- but I could see the worried expression on Sarah's face.

"Dean wants us to live closer to him and I agree," I spoke without looking at my wife, "But to do so we aren't going to find any rolling hills or wind-swept prairies like in Montana."

Sarah nodded, "I know that Sam but… I've gotten used to how quiet it is out there… I can hear crickets and the horses and coyotes. I moved to Montana because I didn't want to live in the city anymore and now we're moving right back."

I gave her a sympathetic look. I appreciated that she wasn't going on about how city life might be stressful for me; instead Sarah claimed to love the rural and dislike the thought of returning to metropolitan life.

"It will definitely be a big change," I agreed, "For the four of us but we'll be fine."

Sarah smiled and turned on the radio- some alternative rock band began playing- and sighed in a tired sort of way.

I knew Sarah was worried about me but I tried not to think about that- I couldn't live like a recluse for the rest of my life just because I was afraid of stress- and focused instead on the positives.

Faith and Aaron would be really close to school and we were only a half-hour drive from Dean's place. I could handle any stress city life threw at me. Besides, I was used to living in the city being shuttled from motel to motel by Dad for the first seventeen years of my life. If I got stressed than I got stressed. I would just make sure to take the meds- that's what they were there for anyway.

I thought it was darkly humorous that Sarah was the one who was anxious about this move when Dean was forever complaining that I took life too seriously, that I worried way too much and never had any fun.

"Just look at it as an adventure, Sarah," I tried, sounding as positive as possible.

Sarah smiled, her grey eyes sparkling.

"Living in the city will be better for the kids," I reminded my wife.

Sarah nodded, "I know. But… it's just that… the city isn't all that safe."

I frowned. Of course the city wasn't safe; it could only be dangerous with so many different people living so close together. But I wasn't really thinking about the dangers of smog or car accidents or strangers… I was thinking about the things that people didn't notice, the creatures that came out at night and stole back into the darkness and into the imagination when their gruesome appetites were sated. I was thinking about being so far away from Dean and Bobby, who both were too far away to help if the threat was immediate, about being a sitting duck for anything that had a taste for human flesh. I wasn't thinking about myself, of course. I knew how to fight all the monsters that lived at the edges of reason but Sarah and the kids did not. I knew I couldn't be there all the time to protect them, either. Somehow the idea of living in the city made me feel as though my family was maybe just a little safer from the things that go bump in the night.

I didn't tell Sarah all this though. I just reached out and placed my hand over hers on the steering wheel.

"Aaron and Faith will be safe, you'll see," I assured her, swallowing as I thought about Michael and Lucifer.

We were quiet for the rest of the drive back to Dean's place. Sarah must have been thinking about all the houses we had seen, which ones would be the best, when we'd be moving, etc.

I thought about how much this seemed like running away even if I told myself I was trying to protect my family. I wondered if we'd have to move again before this was all over. I hoped not, I had moved from motel to motel so fast in my youth that I hated the idea of picking up and leaving. I was willing to do anything to make sure Faith and Aaron's childhood wasn't like mine had been. The road was no place for a couple of kids. Dad may not have realized that but I did. I was not going to get my son and daughter caught up in my war.

I sighed and crossed my arms. I remembered when I was a kid, wishing that Dad would just leave Dean and me with Bobby or take us to live with some distant relatives. I may not have understood my father's crusade at that time but I did understand that the way we lived was not normal, that it was dangerous in fact and often dreamed of being removed from the equation. I loved my father, of course I did, but being raised to fight and kill from the time you could walk and talk was not right. I know Dad was just trying to protect Dean and I but all I wanted was to just be a normal kid.

"Sam? You okay?" Sarah's voice brought me back to the present.

I blinked, not realizing I had almost fallen asleep.

"Yeah," I muttered, looking in the car's side view mirror and seeing the frown on my face, "Just thinking."

Gotta stop comparing Aaron and Faith to us when we were kids, I heard Dean's voice chastise in my head.

I wiped a hand over my face and peered at Sarah, "What are you thinking about?"

Sarah shook her head, "Do you think we should move before or after Christmas?"

"Let's just find a house first," I suggested.

W

Sarah dropped me off in the front of Dean's condo. She said she wanted to visit Lisa, since we really were so close by, so I walked into the lobby and pressed the button that would signal to Dean that I was there. The security doors unlocked and I stepped in. There was no snow on the ground even though it was almost mid-November. Dean had told me it had just been pissing icy rain all month without a hint of sunshine in the grey sky.

I didn't bother with the elevator. I could use the exercise and took the stairs instead.

I was panting by the time I got to Dean's floor and my left knee was throbbing painfully, about ready to give out on me it seemed.

Smooth move Sam, I thought as I tried not to limp down the hallway. Should have known better than to use the stairs, moron.

I grimaced. It seemed as though my knee was never going to heal properly and would always be weak.

I knocked quickly on the door of Dean's condo and seconds later it was opened.

"Jeez Sam, what'd you do, run a marathon before you came here?" Dean asked as he stepped out of the way to let me inside.

"Took the stairs," I informed him in a stuffy voice, not letting him know I had paid for it.

I moved into the living room and sat down on the couch, resting my heels as casually as possible on the coffee table so my legs were elevated. I ignored the throb in my left knee and gratefully took the beer my brother held out to me.

Dean took a long drink of beer, eyeing me from over the bottle as he did so.

I frowned; Dean was going to start worrying, I just knew it.

"How's that shoulder of yours?" He asked. I was right. I hadn't been here five minutes and already my brother was the proverbial mother hen.

"Not bad," I lied. It wasn't healing as fast as I thought it should be. In fact, it didn't seem like it was healing at all and that made me nervous- not that I'd tell Dean that.

I knew I shouldn't really worry about the wound. I had been cut with a Seraph Blade before and that injury had healed- under the ministrations of professionals though- so I just told myself to give it time.

Dean's face turned sympathetic and I knew he still felt bad for thinking Belial had been me and that he hadn't rushed with all-speed to Montana like he undoubtedly believed he should have.

Thankfully changing the subject, Dean asked where Sarah was, "She doesn't want to hang out with a couple of fine young men?

"She said she wanted to go see Lisa," I shook my head and took a drink of my own beer before I forgot I had it.

Dean's face darkened slightly at the mention of his ex-wife's name and I swallowed a mouthful of alcohol painfully.

"Are you two still… friendly?" I asked hesitantly. I wanted to know what mess I'd just stepped in.

Dean waved a hand at my question, "Oh Lisa's friendly… she's friendly with every guy she comes across."

I grimaced. Dean's gotta be exaggerating though, I reasoned. I may not have known Lisa for very long or very well but she didn't seem like the type to sleep around with every available man now that she was single again.

Dean told me how Lisa was now seeing some douchebag named Wayne. Dean said he'd had to watch the boys three times so far because their mother had been out having 'casual' dinner and drinks with her co-worker.

"Who the fuck names their kid Wayne anyway?" Dean growled. I just let him vent. It was better than sitting all alone in his condo feeling bitter and sorry for himself.

"There's that Canadian hockey player, Wayne Gretsky," I suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

My brother wasn't amused.

"What about you Dean? You didn't have a problem with promiscuity before," I tried and failed miserably because my brother only got mad at me.

"So if you and Sarah got a divorce you wouldn't bat an eye if she suddenly started dating that Percy Upton dipshit?" Dean asked and I could see that he really wanted an answer.

"Of course I would but that's different, Percy's a little weasel but you don't even know anything about this Wayne guy," I tried to defend myself and reason with Dean at the same time.

Dean drained the last of his beer, "I don't have to know him. I just know that when Lisa says their going out for 'casual' drinks and dinner they're really porking each other."

I sighed, "You can't know that for sure."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah? I do know because I have used that code before Sam!"

I decided to stop trying. Let Dean believe anything he wanted to about Lisa and Wayne, it wasn't really my business and I was going to keep out of it.

"How're the boys? How does S.J. like school?" I asked to get Dean's mind off his ex.

It was as if a switch had been flipped. My brother went from pissed off and glowering to enthusiastic and chatty.

It was about two hours later that Sarah called to say she was leaving Lisa's and was coming back to the condo.

Dean grabbed another beer and cracked one open for me.

"So, how do you like Sheridan?" My brother decided to talk about the move now.

I shrugged, "It's like any other city, Dean. There's nothing special about it."

"Don't say that. There's gotta be something… I've been there a couple of times and it seems nice enough," Dean said but I just gave him an exasperated look.

"Okay, well if you aren't so eager to live here… what about South Dakota? You could live near Bobby. I'm sure the old man wouldn't mind that," Dean suggested.

"Dean, Sarah and I are moving to Indiana," I assured him. I knew Dean really wanted me to live here.

My brother tried not to look too relieve and I chuckled.

"We'll find the right place," I assured my brother.

"Yeah, with your hunting skills and Sarah's knowledge of all things outside the realm of monsters, you'll be able to snag a house in no time," Dean joked.

I frowned.

"I do know some things about the normal side of life, Dean. I was in college for a few years-" I tried to defend myself, enjoying the teasing.

Dean shook his head, "Being holed-up in some musty campus library surrounded by textbooks does not count as 'the normal side of life' Sammy."

I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation and chuckled.

Dean gave me a look that said 'can't I poke fun at my brother?'

When Sarah arrived, Dean offered her a beer and she accepted.

I raised an eyebrow at my wife.

"What? Oh, don't worry, I just had tonic and lime at Lisa's," Sarah assured me. I wasn't really worried. Sarah was never one to drink-and-drive.

Sarah took a seat beside me and unconsciously reached out and held my free hand in hers.

"Lisa's so excited that we're moving closer to you two," Sarah told Dean.

I'll just bet she is, I couldn't help but think just a little spitefully. From the expression that flashed over my brother's face I saw that he was thinking something along the same lines as I was.

"S.J. and Ben can't wait to see Aaron and Faith again," Sarah continued, "It'll be nice for the kids to be only minutes away from one another."

"We don't really know if we're moving to Sheridan, though," I interrupted Sarah's daydreaming.

Sarah chuckled and said, 'Don't listen to my husband; I'm the one who wears the pants in this relationship."

Dean burst out laughing, almost choking on his beer and I couldn't help but laugh along. Sarah gave my hand a squeeze and glanced at me from the corner of her eye.

"I like the town; yes it's nothing like Petite but it isn't as congested as New York or Albany," Sarah continued.

Dean took a swig of his beer, "So, have you thought about what you're going to do about jobs? Are you going to move that old bric-a-brac shop to Sheridan?"

Sarah smiled knowingly, "I've already looked into it- I can be an antique and collectables dealer, like my Dad. I'll be able to work from home so Aaron and Faith have someone around while they're still young. You don't need a big warehouse to be a dealer… A lot of people don't want to go out to auctions like that anymore-"

"Unless you're a billionaire," Dean interrupted with a smirk, no doubt thinking about the first time we had met Sarah and her father.

Sarah took a drink of her beer before continuing, "Anyway, a lot of people will pay good money for antiques and collectables online, from eBay, and I can even appraise heirlooms and things like that if they're brought to me."

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking impressed.

I knew Sarah loved art and would always want to work with it, even in the comfort of our own home.

"And what about you, Jack-Of-All-Trades?" My brother asked with a grin before taking a swig of beer.

I smiled but shook my head, "Sarah's trying to convince me I should teach."

Dean looked surprised, "What, like in a classroom?"

"I think he'd make a wonderful high school teacher," Sarah answered my brother assuredly.

Dean's gaze wandered and he smiled. I'm pretty sure he was picturing me wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a corduroy jacket with patches on the elbows.

"I think it's a good idea," Dean approved, "You've gotta put all that college education to good use somehow and what better way than by molding the minds of the future?"

I shrugged, uncomfortable, "Dean, I may be a lot of things but I am definitely not a teacher. I couldn't teach anyone to save my life."

Sarah's hand moved from mine to rest on my shoulder- the uninjured one- and gave it a comforting squeeze.

My brother gave me a skeptical look, "C'mon Sam. I know you better than that. You have all that knowledge stored up in that genius head of yours just waiting to burst out. What better way to show Dad he was wrong for saying 'no' to college than having a job that requires all that brainiac stuff."

"Dean-" I began but my brother raised a hand.

"I already know what you're going to say and I want you to know that I think Dad was wrong to be so against the whole 'higher education' thing. I mean, sure it sounded like you were ditching us, I'll admit that, but in the long-run it's turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Look at me for Christ's sake! I have a GED and what the hell is that good for nowadays? Huh? Jack shit, that's what. It was all well and good when I thought I'd be a hunter until I died but now, I regret not even finishing high school, man. But you, you can do anything you want, you can be anything you want. So why not go for it, Sam? Why waste the education you worked so hard to get?" Dean was almost blue in the face by the time he finished.

I blinked, "Wow. Thanks for the pep-talk, Dean."

My brother scowled, "I'm serious, Sammy."

"Sarah; c'mon, help me out here," Dean begged of my wife but Sarah looked just as shocked as I felt at my brother's transformation into a motivational speaker.

"You heard him; Sam, if you want to be a teacher, be a teacher," Sarah said with a smile.

I stood and ran a hand through my hair, "But that's just it- I don't want to be a teacher. I can't be a teacher!"

"You never know until you try," Sarah suggested. I knew she really wanted me to teach, thought it'd be the perfect career for me but I was dubious.

I really couldn't see myself standing at the front of a classroom filled with rowdy teenagers who didn't want to be there.

"Sam," Sarah said, reaching out and taking hold of my wrist to guide me back to sit beside her on the couch again, "We don't want you to do anything you don't want to… We're just trying to find the right job for you."

"Sarah can't be the sole breadwinner," Dean piped up, "Not very chivalrous, you know."

"I don't want you to be stressed about this," Sarah continued but I chuckled.

"I'm already stressed out about this! I have no idea about houses and yet you insist on dragging me around and now you're telling me what I should do for the rest of my life!" I exclaimed. I knew I wasn't being fair but the fact that we were being forced to move at all really pissed me off. I just couldn't take the chance that Belial or some other angel would come snooping around our home in Petite again.

"We're not trying to strong-arm you into doing anything you aren't comfortable with, Sam," Sarah argued.

"I know, I know," I muttered, "Can I just think it over, at least?"

Sarah looked surprised that I was even asking, "Of course Sam… besides, we still have a long time before we make any decisions. We don't even have a house yet."

Yeah, I know. I dreamt of having a normal life, a normal family, a normal job when I was younger and now that I was getting what I wanted I was afraid of it. Figures.

W

That evening Sarah spoke to the real estate agent over the phone about some more houses he wanted us to look at. My wife looked at me expectantly but I just waved the unasked question away. Let Sarah do her thing and I'll do mine.

"So you haven't heard anything from Belial again, have you? You know, Bobby thought he might come back," Dean asked as we sat at the kitchen table.

I shook my head, "Belial must have learned his lesson and before you ask, I haven't seen any other angels either… not even Cas or Abdiel."

I was still really bummed-out that the two friendly angels hadn't been sighted in months and even though Dean told me not to worry, something felt a little bit off about the whole thing.

"Must be nice not to have the enemy breathing down your neck, though," Dean shrugged.

I nodded and gulped down some beer.

"Aren't you concerned about Cas and Abdiel? I mean, we haven't heard anything from the since… uh, since Cas paid us a visit at Bobby's," I asked. I knew Dean probably thought the two angels were doing their own thing; that they weren't our babysitters but they were friends and I always worried about my friends and family.

"Sam, c'mon, those two can take care of themselves… besides, if anything came up I'm sure they'd tell us," Dean stood and rummaged around in a cupboard, pulling out a bowl and a bag of chips.

"Yeah, 'cause Cas has always been so forthcoming in the past," I muttered skeptically.

Dean poured the chips and sat the bowl on the table between us, raising his eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you'd want the two of 'em following you around like a couple of Secret Service guys," Dean chuckled.

"No, but at least they could tell us what's going down, you know," I argued, "I hate feeling like we're being kept in the dark."

"Sammy, you know Abdiel would tell you if something big was about to happen," Dean smiled encouraging before grabbing a handful of chips and shoving them into his mouth.

"Besides, just between you and me, I think he has a little bit of a crush on you," Dean's hazel eyes sparkled with mischievous glee, spraying bits of chip as he spoke.

I rolled my eyes, "Nice, Dean."

"Are you two getting along?" Sarah asked, poking her head into the kitchen, still holding her cell phone.

"Yes, Mom," Dean grinned wickedly at me but I just scowled at my brother.

Sarah chuckled and daintily picked up a potato chip.

"Why do you have to eat like a pig?" I asked Dean, glancing at Sarah from the corner of my eye.

"Why do you have to nag at me all the time?" Dean countered and I sighed.

I almost wished we'd find a house soon so we could leave Dean in all his bachelor-pad glory.

Dean leaned forward on his elbows, "You okay, Sammy? You look kinda tired."

"Just getting over a bit of a flu bug," I commented, hoping my brother wouldn't immediately turn into the mother hen he usually did if I had so much as a runny nose.

I didn't tell Dean that my kneecap felt like someone had replaced it with a ball of molten glass or that my shoulder was throbbing incessantly with every heartbeat.

Dean peered at my face, his expression serious but then he sat back, apparently placated with my answer. It wasn't like I was lying to him, anyway.

"Cheer up, Sammy," Dean said, "It ain't good to be so serious all the time."

"I'm not serious all the time, Dean," I muttered.

"Oh yeah?" Dean said, challenging, "Name one time when you've not had that frowny, depressed look on your face."

"That day you took me tobogganing while Dad was hunting that Wendigo," I recalled.

"You were, what, eight at the time?" Dean said skeptically but he smiled, like me, remembering that one afternoon where we'd gone up and down a large snow-covered hill for hours, using a metal trashcan lid as a sled.

I nodded. We had been stuck in a tiny, chilly motel room that had only one channel on the ancient TV and after annoying Dean, he finally gave in and let me go outside.

We didn't really have the right winter clothes. Besides our jackets, we dressed in sneakers and toques, no mittens or snow-pants but that didn't stop us. Dean had swiped a lid from one of the trashcans outside the motel's main office and we took off down the road for a fun-filled afternoon of play.

Dean's smile turned to a frown, remembering the consequence of our childhood desire to do something normal kids did: Dad had been pissed that we had gone outside unsupervised with a monster on the loose and ranted at Dean for two hours about how he should be more responsible. I came down with a fever that turned into pneumonia and had to be taken to the local hospital. I don't really remember the five days I spent there but Dean said it had been pretty bad.

"Hey, at least I was happy for the afternoon," I returned to the original topic, trying to sweep the ill consequences aside.

Dean smiled, "Yeah, you wouldn't stop laughing."

My brother sighed and it seemed some tension was lifted.

We fell silent for a few moments, neither of us quite sure of what to say.

Thankfully, Sarah came into the room. She sat down in between us and began talking about some houses the realtor had found for us.

"He says we can see them tomorrow," Sarah spoke, seeming unaware of the slightly awkward silence that has enveloped the kitchen moments before… or else she was ignoring it.

"Great," I nodded, trying not to sound exasperated.

"Sam, the more houses we see the better chance we have of picking one," Sarah said, sounding just a little annoyed.

"You're right," I agreed, "It just feels weird to me, that's all."

Dean chuckled, "It's not like we haven't snooped around peoples' houses when they weren't there before."

"When we did that we were hunting, looking for evidence, not intending to buy their houses," I argued.

Dean just shook his head in fake exasperation.

"You're really strange Sammy; did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Lots of people," I muttered, somewhat irritated at my brother.

Sarah gave me a sympathetic look and her hand found my own.

"I can go look by myself tomorrow," she suggested.

I shook my head, "I'll come with you. Who knows what you'd pick if I wasn't there!"

SPN

I know I pick on Sammy all the time. I tease him and he hates it but it's my job, it's what older brothers are for, right?

Besides, I'm sure that when we're white-haired old men we'll have to kick the bucket at the same time so one doesn't go before the other. It's a little bit poetic if you think about it, in a morbid, Emily Dickinson kind of way.

I didn't know why Sam was making such a big deal about moving from Montana. I mean, I adjusted pretty well to living with Lisa and then buying my condo.

And you thought I was the one who lived for the hunt?

Okay, so maybe Sammy wasn't in the hunter frame of mind anymore but he was so obviously uncomfortable with this whole house-thing it was starting to make me uncomfortable.

"Sam," I leaned forward, "What's bothering you? Why are you so nervous about moving away?"

Sam sat back and rubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. He looked at Sarah and then back at me.

"I just don't want to move, you know," Sam lied because his wife was sitting there, "We've made friends there and we have good jobs… I guess I'm just not really ready to start all over."

I nodded as if that made all the sense in the world.

Sarah peered at me and then at Sam, a knowing smile crept across her face, "All right, keep your secrets if you must."

I gave my sister-in-law a conspiratorial look and crossed my arms over my chest smugly.

Sarah shook her head and gave us a false exasperated look.

SPN

It was raining, cold and miserable the next day when Sarah and I followed the realtor from house to house.

Sarah chatted animatedly to the realtor about the houses and I just followed along silently, like a shadow.

The weather was affecting my leg badly and I limped along- half grateful half embarrassed that I was using my cane again- feeling like an old man.

"The next house I want to show you has a large backyard and a walk-out basement…" the realtor was saying and I saw my wife brighten up.

We were walking side-by-side, Sarah holding my free hand, seemingly worried that I was going to fall over or something.

"And you'll like this, Sam," the agent speaking to me now, "it has a room that can used as a man-cave!"

The realtor gave me a sly look as though because we were both guys, he knew what I'd want in a house, and apparently I was secretly longing for a man-cave.

I just nodded and said, "That's great!"

The realtor slapped me on the back and chuckled. I held back the urge to shove my foot where the sun doesn't shine.

We stopped in front of a sandstone two-storey, the bricks a mixture of pink and red and gold; with a light brown shingled roof; a big bay window in the front and soggy, droopy rosebushes along the front.

"Roses! I love roses!" Sarah spoke up and brushed past the realtor, dragging me along behind her.

The realtor unlocked the door and from the look on my wife's face, before we'd even set foot in the hallway, I knew this was going to be our house.

SPN

Castiel hated playing the double agent. He spent as much time as he dared with each of the archangels.

He hated all the lying and sneaking around- something that went against his very nature but was unavoidable.

This is for Dean and Sam, Castiel thought, this is for their protection.

But who am I really protecting? Castiel mused sadly; who am I saving by doing this?

"Raphael, I need you to help me release Abdiel from prison," Castiel told the archangel.

His brother raised a dark eyebrow, "And why would I want to do something like that, Castiel?"

The lower-ranking angel knew he could not break his friend from prison without assistance. Castiel knew that Raphael would be able to free their brother from jail, the only problem was, would he want to?

"Brother, Abdiel is the only angel who can keep Michael away from Sam Winchester," Castiel began, hoping that his words would sway Raphael.

The archangel appeared to be listening so Castiel continued, "If you still want Sam Winchester… Abdiel will protect him from our overzealous brother… until you are ready for him."

Castiel hated the words he was speaking but he knew that Raphael's hate of Michael and his desire to see Sam pay for his crimes would force his hand in the direction the lower-ranking angel wished it to go.

Castiel could almost see Raphael thinking, a smile curving his lips, his dark eyes flashing with covetousness.

"All right Castiel, I'll play your game, seeing as you are so willing to play mine," Raphael spoke slowly, a mocking smile on his lips, "It is only fair, after all."

Castiel didn't bother to thank his brother; he knew that Raphael was not acting out of the kindness of his heart.

Without hesitation both angels 'teleported' to the prison to rescue their brother. It was at the farthest point in Heaven, dark and silent, the only place in God's kingdom where His light did not reach. For an angel, it was a terrible fate to be held there for any length of time.

The only place worse than this is Hell, Castiel thought and suppressed a shudder as he and Raphael stepped inside.

It took a moment for the angels' eyes to adjust to the darkness but after some fervent blinking, they could make out the prison's dimensions.

It had no chains or cells or bars- such things were not needed, those imprisoned could not escape- it was like walking into a black hole. Castiel could feel an odd pressure all around him and knew that the spell the prison was under was working on him. He peered through the gloom at Raphael and saw that the archangel was standing ramrod straight, his jaw tightly clenched.

The two angels knew they must work quickly or they would also become trapped. The only angels able to withstand the prison's spell where the guards, disciples of its creator, Melchior.

"Raphael, perhaps you should wait outside and warn us if anyone approaches," Castiel suggested, struggling to get the words out.

The archangel didn't even argue, he simply vanished and Castiel knew he was standing watch.

Castiel walked calmly toward Sandalphon. The guard stopped him, "What business do you have here, Castiel?"

"Michael has asked me to assure that the prison is secure," Castiel lied, hoping that Sandalphon would believe him.

The angel looked confused; surely the prison would always be secure?

"Go on your way," Sandalphon waved Castiel away, in no mood to entertain Michael's current, albeit strange choice in partners.

Castiel nodded and sidled past the guard.

If Michael finds out I am here…

Castiel didn't finish the sentence; he could just image what the archangel would do to him if he was discovered and shivered at the thought of having his Grace ripped out as Belial's had been.

As Castiel walked deeper into the prison he couldn't help but remember that he had sent Anna there. He did feel bad for making that choice but he had done so to protect the Winchesters… and he had not been wrong for doing so, in the end.

The trench coat-wearing angel saw no other guards and no prisoners and began worrying that Abdiel was not there at all.

What if Michael has already gotten to him? Castiel thought despairingly.

He shook his head to try and clear away the depressing thoughts already surfacing from being inside the prison. If the spell was already affecting Castiel negatively than what must Abdiel be going through?

It was then that Castiel caught sight of a shape in a corner. It was Abdiel!

"Brother," Castiel said and approached the angel.

He was crouched, his paperboy cap obscuring his face, and did not move at the sound of Castiel's voice.

I'm too late, Castiel feared, this place has driven him mad.

"Abdiel, it is me," the angel tried again, "Castiel."

Two bird of prey eyes glared at the angel and Castiel hesitated.

"About bloody time!" Abdiel snapped and struggled to stand, one hand braced against the wall as his wobbly legs refused to cooperate.

Castiel rushed to aid his brother, "Can you stand?"

"Wot do you think I'm trying to do, you dolt?" Abdiel grumbled and clutched at Castiel's coat.

Castiel grabbed Abdiel under the shoulders and heaved him up. Abdiel tried to stand on his own but his legs gave out and he almost brought his trench coat-wearing brother down with him.

"Just gimme a minute, mate," Abdiel brushed invisible dust off Castiel's lapels.

Castiel's blue eyes widened slightly, "We do not have a minute, brother. We must leave now before we are found out."

"Okay, okay," Abdiel muttered, "Don't lose your feathers."

Castiel stretched his wings out and actually checked them. Abdiel chuckled and took a few steps forward- pushing his paperboy cap a little higher up on his forehead- and tested his balance.

"That'll do," he muttered in a thick Cockney accent.

"We must away now," Castiel pressed and took hold of Abdiel's arm.

Before the Brit could even protest, Castiel sent the both of them shooting toward a different slice of Heaven when they slammed into an invisible wall, knocking them nearly senseless.

"Did you think that you could just fly away and I wouldn't notice?"

Castiel recovered first and his gaze landed on Raphael.

"We needed to escape without alerting Michael," Castiel snapped and pulled Abdiel up.

The British angel ran a hand through his curly hair and frowned, realizing his hat was missing.

Raphael raised an eyebrow, "Ah, was that the plan?"

"I thought Michael had you evicted, Raffi," Abdiel spoke up, his raptor gaze pinned on the archangel.

"I was simply assisting Castiel in your rescue; I do not wish to remain here longer than need be. Believe it or not, Abdiel, but I do not want to confront Michael right now," Raphael answered haughtily, ignoring Castiel's hand signaling for him to be quiet.

"Huh and why is that?" The British angel turned to Castiel.

"I will explain all while we move," Castiel answered, "Right now we are no better than… what is the term?"

"Sitting ducks," Abdiel offered and the trench coat-wearing angel nodded.

Raphael looked from Abdiel to Castiel and frowned, "Do what you need to do, Castiel. I will wait."

The archangel disappeared with the faint sound of wing beats and Castiel turned to his brother.

"We have already stayed too long," the angel took hold of Abdiel's arm once more, "Come."

Once again the angels were travelling a light-speed until-

They were standing in a ballroom in Versailles. Women wearing frilly, colourful dresses and men in doublets and hose danced around and around, ignoring the angels.

"Wot's going on Cas? Is Sam alright? Did Belial do something? Wot did Raphael mean 'he would wait'?" As soon as the angels stopped moving Castiel was bombarded with questions.

Castiel tried unsuccessfully to pry Abdiel's hand off his coat, "How do you know about Belial?"

"Our dear brother Michael paid me a visit, told me he'd set the Lord of the Flies to watch Sam," Abdiel answered, brown eyes nervous.

"Sam Winchester is safe," Castiel assured his friend.

"Bollocks! Something's happened- I felt it!" Abdiel argued and pulled Castiel close to him.

"Belial disobeyed Michael's orders and tried to kill Sam," Castiel whispered.

"Oh Hell's Bells, I'm gonna kill him!" Abdiel swore, causing his brother's blue eyes to grow large in shock.

"I'm afraid that such action wouldn't amount to much," Castiel answered hurriedly.

"Wot-" Before Abdiel could finish the question he was once again flying alongside his brother, bound for another version of Heaven-

They stood on a white-sand beach, the sound of seagulls and the ocean ringing in their ears as a large, red sun shone down on them.

Abdiel, still weak from the effects of the prison, sat down heavily on the sand, legs splayed out.

"Warn me when you're gonna do that next time, mate," he muttered and ran a hand through the soft, warm sand.

"Very well," Castiel remained standing even as Abdiel laid back, hands under his head, squinting up past his brother at the pale sky.

"Wot do you mean killing Belial wouldn't amount to much? It'd make me feel a whole lot better and it'd keep Sam safe," Abdiel finished the question he'd began asking in Louis XIV's palace.

"Michael has gone mad with power," Castiel said stiffly.

"And…" Abdiel prompted.

"And as a result he ripped out Belial's Grace as punishment for disobedience," Castiel finished in a hoarse whisper.

Abdiel sat up, spluttering, "Wot? I know you're no good at jokes but even for you that's a bit dark, don't you think?"

"I would not joke about something like that," Castiel's blue eyes turned to ice.

Abdiel shuddered. Just the thought of another angel coming in contact with his Grace set his teeth on edge. Even though he thought Belial was a wanker, Abdiel would never wish for his brother to have his Grace taken from him.

"Brother, we should move," Castiel interrupted his thoughts and-

The Serengeti at dawn. The angels could see giraffes grazing on the highest branches of acacia trees.

Gnats flew around the angels' head in buzzing, annoying halos.

"So, Michael's getting comfy up there on Daddy's throne, is he?" Abdiel continued, leaning against the trunk of a baobab tree.

"Yes," Castiel agreed because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Wot else do I need to know, Castiel? Wot is going on between you and Raphael?" Abdiel asked shrewdly.

"I asked him to assist me in your rescue," Castiel did not lie.

Abdiel raised an eyebrow, "What about Astoreth? I thought you and Raphael weren't on speaking terms."

Castiel knew he needed to lie but he hated the idea of deceiving his brother, "Michael would not suspect Raphael to come waltzing right into Heaven."

"Uh huh," Abdiel said and turned his gaze to the rising sun.

"Brother, please believe me," Castiel begged, he couldn't bear the thought of Abdiel losing faith in him.

"Wot are you and Raphael up to?" Abdiel pinned Castiel with his raptor gaze.

"I am trying to help," Castiel said.

Abdiel narrowed his eyes at his brother. He had always trusted Castiel but something about the way he and Raphael had been speaking to one another seemed off.

"Forget it," Abdiel waved a hand, "I don't want to hear it."

"Abdiel," Castiel began and reached out to grip his brother's arm-

The angel shook his head as they were jostled around by a screaming, cheering crowd. Strobe lights flickered and the sounds of a rock concert invaded the air around the angels.

"I DON'T WANT ANY EXPLANATION FROM YOU, CASTIEL!" Abdiel shouted and his brother strained to hear him over the chords of a Megadeth song.

"BROTHER, PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!" Castiel shouted back but Abdiel reached up and shook him by the shoulders.

The British angel continued to hold Castiel and moved closer to him until their noses almost touched, "If you do anything to hurt Sam, anything… Than you can consider me an enemy, brother."

Castiel looked away from Abdiel's predatory eyes, "We should go now. You'll need to stay underground."

Abdiel bowed, "Lead the way."

Castiel, with Abdiel's hands still fisted into his lapels, nodded and took the both of them down to Earth.

Abdiel blinked and looked around. His head was swimming- it would take longer than he expected to shake off prison's spell- and saw they were in a barren field with fat, wet flakes of snow falling down onto the dry yellow grass.

Castiel's eyes were large and wide, as though he was trying to imitate Sam Winchester's 'puppy eyes' expression.

"You must stay hidden," Castiel told his brother, somewhat more subdued now after Abdiel's outburst.

"Piece of cake," Abdiel managed to smile, "I managed it for millennia before you found me."

"Please be careful," Castiel cautioned, "You are the only thing standing between Michael and Sam right now."

"And what about you and Raphael? Am I the only thing standing between you two lovebirds and Sam?" Abdiel asked without a trace of humour in his voice.

Castiel blinked, "I can keep Raphael away from him."

Abdiel raised an eyebrow in a 'yeah, right' expression.

He looked out at the swirling snow, "So, underground again, eh? Maybe I'll take a leaf out of Gabriel's book this time. Wouldn't Michael shit himself if I did that?"

"Perhaps," Castiel answered.

Abdiel nodded and turned away as though he meant to walk to his destination.

"Oh, Cas, there is one more thing," Abdiel was smiling now and his brother looked expectantly at him.

"Yes?"

"You owe me a new hat," The smile never faded, even when Abdiel turned back on his heel and began humming 'Countdown To Extinction'.

W

Castiel waited until Abdiel had disappeared before he slumped with relief. He hated lying to his brother, not being able to tell him exactly why he was working with Raphael.

Abdiel would kill me if I told him the truth; Castiel thought, deadly serious.

He peered up into the sky and knew he should return to Heaven. Castiel wished he could visit Dean Winchester but he wouldn't take the chance- not with both Raphael and Michael keeping tabs on him- so with one mournful look out at the wintery prairielands, Castiel sighed and went to find the archangels.

SPN

We were going to stay in Montana until early January. No one wanted to move during Christmas- even though it was still the middle of November- but you didn't hear any complaints coming from me.

I wasn't nearly ready enough to leave Petite. I had people to say 'goodbye' to, things to prepare, etc.

I knew Sarah was trying to make the best of a bad situation and even managed to be excited about the new place but I couldn't help but wonder just how many more new houses we'd have, always looking over our shoulders, until Michael and Lucifer came asking the Big Question.

Half the time I told myself I would tell Aaron and Faith about the angels when the time came, tell them to say 'no' no matter what happened and the other half I made silent promises that if Lucifer showed his ugly face, I would agree to 'fulfill my destiny' just so my kids wouldn't have to make that decision.

But who am I kidding? After sending Lucifer's ass back to Hell and then killing him with his own Seraph Blade, he'd probably just squash me like a bug as soon as look at me.

But, hey, a guy can hope, can't he?

I know neither path was a good one to go down but I would do anything it took to keep my son and daughter safe… even if it meant having to sacrifice my life or my freedom.

W

I was in my office in the library, not doing anything, just thinking, really, when the sudden appearance of an old friend nearly caused me to fall backwards out of my chair.

"Abdiel!" I cried and grabbed the desk for support.

It had been months since I had heard from him and smiled broadly for a moment before frowning.

"Why haven't you answered me?" I demanded to know.

Abdiel jumped up on the desk and crouched there, bird-like. He was different; his movements were less fluid, his expression serious and the paperboy hat was missing from atop his curly hair.

"I'm sorry, mate, I really am."

"For what?" I asked, even Abdiel's voice sounded exhausted.

"I was taking an extended vacation at angel Alcatraz," Abdiel commented.

"You were… in jail?" I asked, stunned, "For how long? Why?"

Abdiel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Just after cleaning up your mess with Phobetor, Michael and I got into a bit of a row and he stuck me in prison 'cause he couldn't handle the truth."

So all the times I'd called on the angel and received no response it wasn't because he was ignoring me. He had been unable to help out.

"How did you get out? Is Cas-" I began but Abdiel held out a hand.

"Castiel was never imprisoned- he knows when to keep his mouth shut- and he was the head of the rescue party," Abdiel answered, giving unusual emphasis to the other angel's name.

"Why hasn't he been helping us then? When Dean finds out that Cas was hanging out in Heaven the whole time-" I bristled at the thought of the angel ignoring us when Dean and I needed him the most.

Abdiel shook his head, "Castiel's trying to keep Michael from destroying Heaven, Sam, and believe me that's no' an easy task. If Mickey is keeping Castiel on a short leash than he wouldn't want to draw attention to you and Dean."

So Castiel was keeping the Eye of Sauron off us. I wondered if Abdiel knew about Raphael's plan to resurrect Lucifer and have the two All Stars of the Apocalypse use Faith and Aaron.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you when Belial attacked," Abdiel apologized.

I shook my head, "I'm alive and that's all that matters."

Abdiel bobbed his head, "But you were injured; I could have prevented that."

I sighed, my hand immediately going to my shoulder.

"So what are you going to do now that you've escaped Azkaban?" I asked and turned on the 'puppy eyes'.

Abdiel chuckled, "I'd love to stay with you and Sarah, if I could. Pretend I was your distant Limey cousin, but I can't take the chance of putting you and your family in danger."

"Abdiel," I protested, "We are already in danger."

"I'm sorry, mate. I've gotta stay underground," he said, "When Michael finds I'm gone no doubt he'll be tearing Heaven apart to find me."

A thought occurred to me, "He might think you've gone straight to me."

"And that, my friend, is why I'm gonna be far away from you if Michael does come calling," Abdiel exclaimed.

We were both silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"It's good to see you again," I offered.

Abdiel smiled and put a hand on my arm, "And I've grown quite fond of you too."

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle and the angel shook his head.

"I had better get going before the God Squad come poking around," Abdiel said sarcastically.

I nodded and bit my lip to keep from saying anything.

I blinked but the angel was gone. I slumped in my chair and rested my head on my arms.

I lifted my head to look up at the ceiling. At least I knew that Abdiel hadn't just been ignoring me these past months; that was some consolation. The fact that Abdiel had been imprisoned didn't make me feel any better though. Things were becoming so messed up in Heaven I didn't know how Cas and Abdiel kept it straight.

I knew shouldn't be worrying about Michael and the other archangels right then anyway, I had a lot of my plate as it was.

I only hoped that Abdiel could keep under Michael's radar.


	35. The Trouble With Angels

"Where is he?" Michael rounded on Castiel, shouting.

"I don't know, brother," the trench coat-wearing angel answered, face completely blank.

"Don't lie to me! I know you had something to do with it Castiel, you two were close!" Michael snarled, flexing his hands as though he wanted to rip his brother's Grace out right then and there.

As thick as thieves, Castiel thought.

"Why would I dare to go defy you, Michael, when I know the price of disobedience?" Castiel asked the archangel.

"Do not be smart with me, Castiel; I know you helped Abdiel escape!" Michael snapped, blue eyes blazing.

"Believe what you wish, brother," Castiel replied as though he was not at all threatened by the archangel.

Michael moved forward before he was standing toe to toe with the trench coat-wearing angel, "If I find out you had anything to do with this, you will go the same way as Belial."

Castiel knew not to take the archangel's threat lightly; if Michael tore out his Grace he would be powerless to help Sam and Dean.

The lower-ranking angel took a breath, knowing that he would have to play the simpering minion a while longer to keep Michael unawares as to whose team he was actually playing on.

"I would not go against you wishes, brother, I have learned my lesson. Perhaps you should ask one of our fallen brethren you've allowed to walk through Saint Peter's gate if they know anything about Abdiel's escape," Castiel spoke without breathing, hating himself for the words he said. He was now pinning the blame on an innocent sibling- well, innocent of releasing Abdiel, at least- so that he would remain free to play the game.

Michael's blue eyes grew shrewd, "Excellent point, Castiel."

Castiel couldn't help but slump a little in relief.

"I knew I made a good choice in becoming partners with you," Michael smiled arrogantly and disappeared.

Is he really that obtuse or is he just playing me? Castiel wondered for a moment.

SPN

Sarah was giddy with excitement over our new house. She could not wait to move. As soon as December hit, she started packing all rarely-used items into cardboard boxes.

I tried to match my wife's enthusiasm but I could not stop thinking about why we were moving away in the first place.

I could not stop thinking about how easy it had been for Belial to spy on me and my family, unnoticed for God knew how long, and that frightened me more than anything. More than the idea of a resurrected Lucifer, I think, because while the Devil's second chance would come sometime in the far future (according to Cas), the angels still had their sights set on Dean and I now.

So while Sarah practically skipped around the house, packing away odds and ends, I stalked around, my mood dark and growing darker the closer the date of the move loomed.

Faith and Aaron seemed to pick up on our opposing attitudes and we'd oftentimes find our daughter stuffing her toys into open boxes within her reach. Aaron, still far too young to understand what was going on, cried a lot and began clingy. Sarah thought our son was still getting over his cold but I was sure he was on my side when it came to moving away, no matter how necessary it was.

Our house was a real mess; it looked like a tornado picked up a box factory and deposited all its contents in our first-floor. Besides the boxes taking up space, a Christmas tree had claimed one corner, its fresh-smelling branches covered in ornaments and tinsel, its peak topped with the customary angel- something that made me smile every time I saw her blond hair and golden halo, white wings and dress- because Faith insisted we put up the tree long before Santa Claus was due to visit.

I was often found wandering around the house, mug of coffee in hand, trailing my fingers over the back of the couch, flipping through a book, sitting on the last set of stairs to the basement. Sarah never said anything; she'd just watch me for a moment or two before leaving me to my thoughts.

I wasn't really sure what I was doing… I guess I just had grown attached to the house, the first one I'd spent the longest time in aside from Bobby's place in Sioux Falls and it felt strange to be leaving- at one time I'd thought that this would be the house Faith and Aaron would grow up in, that Sarah and I would grow old in- even if it might seem odd to you, you have to remember that I rarely had a place to call my own.

The impending move to Sheridan, Indiana wasn't the only thing putting a damper on my mood:

The cold weather was fucking up my leg- I was popping pain killers like they were Skittles and was forced to walk with that damn cane again- and I was just praying that the whole winter wouldn't leave me limping around like some old geezer.

My shoulder was finally beginning to heal- thank God- but it was taking its sweet time and ached like a son of a bitch most days.

It felt like my family was pussy-footing around me. It wasn't like I was acting like some surly asshole or anything but I'll admit my temper was on a short fuse and I had absolutely no tolerance for stress.

I had finally told everyone at the library that I was moving- you should have seen their faces, it felt like someone had told them Christmas was canceled- and nominated Valerie to take over my position. I knew she was young, but her age would benefit her, she'd likely stay as Head Librarian for a long time. Valerie had been very gracious, acting like she didn't deserve such a promotion but everyone said that she was the perfect choice. I felt confident in my decision and I could tell that Valerie was secretly very proud.

Sarah had told almost the entire population of Petite that we were moving and we were constantly having unexpected guests come over with coffee cakes or flowers or offers to help us pack or haul everything to Indiana when the time came. I had never realized how many friends we had made in the small farming community- I never realized just how many people considered me their friend.

W

I was pursuing the books that had been left out on the bookshelf, looking for something to occupy my time until Sarah returned with Aaron and Faith. She had taken the kids to Helena for some early Christmas shopping and I had the house to myself.

I hummed tunelessly for a moment until I picked up a well-thumbed copy of The Gunslinger by Stephen King and flipped through it, deciding I could re-read it and sat down on the couch.

I was a few chapters in when I heard footsteps coming from the front hallway. Wary, I set the book down and looked over the back of the couch.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Crowley entered the living room. He looked just as he had the last time I had seen him, maybe a little smugger, but pretty much the same dapper, devious demon that he always was.

I stood up quickly, too quickly it seemed since I had to grab the back of the couch for support, cursing my left leg as I did so and snarled at the intruder.

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

Crowley spread his hands, "Is that anyway to speak to your favourite demon, Moose?"

I raised a skeptical eyebrow, "What the fuck are you doing here, Crowley? Don't you have some poor sap's soul to steal with a crossroads deal somewhere?"

Crowley straightened his black tie and smirked, "Oh, I forgot, you didn't get the newsletter."

I blinked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

The demon ignored me and went into the kitchen. I followed and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as Crowley opened the cupboard above the stove we used as a liquor cabinet and pulled out a half-full bottle of Maker's Mark.

"Make yourself at home," I muttered and moved to sit down. My leg ached annoyingly and I reached down to rub at my knee.

I watched with annoyance as Crowley twisted the cap off the bottle and took a deep swig of the amber liquid.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here or are you just going to stand there and drink my entire store of booze?" I asked tersely. I knew that Crowley could be an asshole if he wanted but he didn't appear to be interested in doing any damage… so far.

Crowley smirked and set the bottle of bourbon down on the kitchen table.

"I actually came here to thank you, Moose," he said and I scowled.

"For what?" I snapped. My leg was really starting to ache and I wondered if I should take a couple of Tylenol.

"You made my position permanent!" Crowley celebrated this announcement with another swig of Maker's Mark.

I tried to feign indifference but I have to admit that I was curious to know what the demon was going on about.

"And that would be?" I stood, gripping the table for support, cursing that I was showing weakness in front of the smug bastard.

Crowley sighed, looking annoyed, "You know, I'd have thought that pompous older brother of yours would have told you when we had that nice chat-"

I interrupted, "What the fuck are you talking about? When did you and Dean ever have a 'nice chat'?"

The demon's eyes flashed with humour, "Oh, that was years ago… almost four years ago now."

"What?" I gritted my teeth together in anger.

Crowley rolled his eyes, "Look, Moose, I'm not in the mood to give you a play-by-play of every conversation your brother and I had."

"Let's just say I pushed Dean in the right direction, gave him a few helpful pointers, that's all," Crowley spread his arms and then took another swig of bourbon.

I clamped my mouth shut, deciding I didn't want to hear whatever Crowley was talking about from him. If and when the time came, I'd ask my brother about it; at least he wouldn't beat around the bush like the boozer I was standing in front of.

I ran a hand over my face, feeling stubble on my chin and deciding that if and when Crowley left, I'd grab a quick shave.

"I like you, always have," Crowley began speaking again, "Okay, well not you as a person but you do have your uses, you're stubborn and self-righteous and so easily angered-"

I slammed a fist down on the table, interrupting the demon's listing of my less desirable qualities.

"Did you have anything to do with the lack of demon activity?" I ask, changing the subject.

Crowley lifts an eyebrow, "Of course, I had to protect my investment."

I cringed at the term, "And now? It's been years… ever since I was brought Topside again no demon has come within a hundred mile radius of Dean and I… except for that gas station outside of Natchez."

The last handful of words was spoken as a realization dawned on me.

"Were those your demons protecting us from Jonah?" I asked shrewdly, waiting for the demon's answer.

Crowley nodded with a knowing smile, "That, well, that was sort of a quid pro quo thing, you know- you make Lucifer into a shish-kabob for me and I prevent you and your brother from being turned into Swiss cheese by a bunch of gun-happy yahoos."

I raised both eyebrows in surprise. I didn't think Crowley did anything for anybody unless he got something out of it himself. Of course, I have been wrong before.

The demon lifted a hand and pointed a stubby finger at my left leg, "About that, well, let's just say you're a hunter and as such, you've been shot before. Think of it this way- you'll have something to tell the grandkids about one day!"

I should have known Crowley wasn't keeping his demons at bay without some sort of price. Even if it meant a screwed up leg, it was better than losing a soul.

I narrowed my eyes, "Screw you, Crowley."

"Sorry, Moose but I don't swing that way," the demon smiled and I bit my cheek to keep from punching his teeth out.

"Is that all you came to say? Give me a pat on the back and say 'thanks for taking care of the Devil for me; he was really cramping my style, oh, and by the way- we're even now'?"

I could have sworn that the demon actually looked hurt.

"No, I popped by for a visit because I enjoy your company," Crowley said sarcastically.

"I know you're not here to shoot the shit with me so what the fuck do you want?" I hissed, "I don't have time to play your games."

"Okay," Crowley seemed to deflate- if that was at all possible for the pompous asshole- and spoke truthfully, "I'm here because I want to know what it is your angels are up to."

The demon raised an eyebrow and looked at me expectantly.

I frowned and Crowley spoke again, "C'mon, don't tell me they've kept you in the dark!"

"Why do you care what Cas and Abdiel do?" I asked suspiciously.

"Because, believe it or not, everything that happens up there," The demon pointed his middle finger toward the ceiling, "Affects what happens down there", index finger jabbed at the floor.

"I'm surprised, Crowley, you always seemed to be 'in the know' about things," I couldn't help but smirk.

The demon narrowed his eyes at me and his lips thinned to a grim line.

"What? You don't like it when it someone else's turn to be smart?" I asked and limped more than walked over to the coffee maker, pouring grounds into the machine and started it percolating.

I had my back to the demon- something that would normally get me killed- but it was Crowley and I mean, if he was here to kill me, he could have done so numerous times already.

"As far as I know, Heaven's gone loco," I said as I listened to the hiss and drip, drip, drip of the coffee maker.

"That's obvious, Boyo," Crowley snapped and moved so he was standing beside me. I heard the bottle of bourbon clunk down heavily on the counter.

I sighed, realizing the demon wasn't going to be satisfied until I told him something.

"Michael's lost it," I said slowly, "He's pretty much proclaimed himself King and has Castiel running around as errand boy."

The demon snorted at the last part but his expression was serious.

I rubbed at my face with both hands, "All because they were trying to kick Raphael out of Heaven."

"Had to pick the lesser of two evils, eh?" Crowley asked and I wasn't so sure if that was true.

I turned around and leaned my back against the edge of the counter; Crowley mimicked the movement and folded his arms over his barrel chest.

"Is that it?" The demon asked, peering at me from the corner of his eye.

"I shouldn't be telling you anything, really," I said, "For all I know it could come back and bite me in the ass."

Crowley smirked, "What's the harm in gossiping with an old chum?"

I glowered at the demon, "Why did you come to me and not Dean, seeing as you're the one who said you two were so friendly before."

"Because big brother would probably try and exorcise me as soon as look at me," Crowley said.

I shrugged, "That sounds like Dean."

Crowley frowned, "So sharing time is over then?"

"I don't see why I should be telling you anything," I concluded, "You're only looking out for yourself anyway."

The demon's expression turned insulted, "Who's the one that's told all the other demons not to touch a hair on you or your brother's heads for the past three years?"

"Ah but you weren't doing so out of kindness," I countered, "You were just protecting you investment."

Crowley hesitated then grumbled, "You're smarter than you look, Moose. You got me there."

I folded my arms across my chest and waited.

"I'm sure an intelligent demon like you can find out what's happening Upstairs without me having to tell you," I said in a patronizing tone.

Crowley made a rude gesture, "You're lucky I like you."

I just smiled and wiggled my fingers in a 'goodbye' gesture.

I grabbed the bottle of Maker's Mark from the counter and held it out to the demon, "You keep it, I don't want it."

Crowley took the bottle and actually cracked a smile, tipping an imaginary hat, "You're a gent."

The demon disappeared before I blinked and I slid down until I was sitting on the kitchen floor.

I guessed I was supremely lucky that Crowley wasn't sending ever demon known to man after me and my brother but I was worried because I just didn't understand his angle.

Sure, I had killed Lucifer but that had been three, almost four years ago now and yet Crowley was still sending word out that Dean and I were off-limits.

I ran a hand through my hair. Everything was so messed up, what with Heaven having a meltdown and Crowley popping in sniffing around for information, I wished things could be simple again.

I wished everything could be black and white, good and evil, right and wrong but it seemed that more and more, shades of gray were coming into focus and I had no idea how I was supposed to maneuver around them.

After about ten minutes I picked myself up and grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured myself a coffee.

I went back into the living room but felt no desire to continue reading.

I sat down on the recliner and grabbed the cordless phone from the coffee table.

I dialed my brother's number and waited for him to pick up.

"Hey, Dean, you'll never guess who just came over for a visit," I said after my brother greeted me, my tone belying the fact that I was unimpressed with Crowley.

"The Dalai Lama?" Dean joked from the other end.

SPN

Castiel stood nervously in the boardroom with a handful of Michael loyalists, waiting on the archangel to appear.

Laylah brushed her vessel's long blonde hair back and turned her green eyes on the trench coat-wearing angel.

"Why do you look like you expect me to say something about the reason for our being here?" Castiel asked his sister.

"Michael has chosen you as his immediate subordinate," Gzrel broke in with an irritated not to his voice.

Castiel did not reply right away.

"That does not mean I am privy to the inner workings of his mind, brother," Castiel bristled.

"Perhaps he has found Abdiel," Bath Kol mused.

I dearly hope not, Castiel thought.

The archangel appeared in the room looking quite smug with three other angels following along in his wake.

Puriel and Zaapiel held a female angel between them. A terrible feeling of déjà vu washed over Castiel.

The captive was a fallen angel who'd professed her desire to mend her ways and be allowed back into Heaven following the rift in Hell that had allowed many fallen seraphim to escape.

"Furfur, here has confessed to freeing Abdiel from prison," Michael announced and Castiel lowered his gaze so the archangel would not see the expression in his eyes.

Castiel highly doubted that the angel had confessed of her own free will. Furfur's head was bowed, her face obscured by dark hair but Castiel could see her legs tremble with the effort of holding her up.

"You are all here so that you may witness the punishment for traitors," Michael's blue eyes glittered with malice.

Castiel bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking. Furfur was innocent and yet she was the one being punished.

The friendly angel wondered if Michael knew he'd helped Abdiel escape and was punishing innocent angels so that Castiel would speak up and condemn himself.

The archangel rolled up his shirtsleeve and stepped toward Furfur.

From the corner of his eye, Castiel saw the assembled angels watching with a mixture of disgust and bloodlust on their faces.

Castiel closed his eyes right before Michael's hand entered the captive angel's chest- he could not watch such a crime happen again- but he cringed when she screamed.

Opening his eyes, Castiel saw the archangel holding up the bright white glowing orb that was Furfur's Grace.

Looking around, Castiel saw his companions expressions had turned to ones of trepidation.

"There is no room in Heaven for those without the utmost fealty," Michael announced and Castiel watched as the archangel slipped Furfur's Grace into his pocket, as he had Belial's.

Turning to Puriel and Zaapiel, Michael sneered, "Take her away."

Castiel gulped but forced his expression to betray none of his feelings.

The other assembled angels took a collective step away from Michael and he chuckled.

Bath Kol cleared her throat, "Brother, do you not think that was an extreme punishment-"

Michael's expression stopped the angel from continuing, "I could have thrown her back into Hell, Bath Kol, would that have been a more fitting punishment?"

The angel lowered her gaze, "No, Michael, you were merciful."

Castiel felt sick to his stomach at the turn this conversation was taking.

Michael looked smugly at his lesser-ranking brothers and sisters.

"Furfur is still allowed to be free," He said, "She is now just as fragile as any human."

"Prison or Hell would be worse," Michael continued, "She would be trapped, separated from our Father's light. I did Furfur a kindness; wouldn't you say so, Castiel?"

Castiel jumped a little, surprised that Michael was addressing him directly, "Yes, brother. You are kind," he deadpanned.

SPN

I was so excited for Sam to move to Indiana- like a kid waiting for Christmas, you might say- and I couldn't help but tell Emma the good news. I think she was about as excited as I was about Sam's move- she really wanted to meet this mysterious brother of mine.

I circled the moving date in red pen on the 'classic car' calendar I'd pinned to the wall in the kitchen beside the phone.

I regularly called my brother- practically every day, much to his annoyance- asking how things were going with the packing, asking if he'd need any help with boxes and stuff.

Laughing, Sam had told me that they weren't even in Sheridan yet, but he'd let me know once they'd arrived.

I dared to think that things might actually be looking up for Sam and I. Maybe the famed 'Winchester Luck' had finally decided to take a long, long vacation.

W

Ah a day off. Who doesn't love those? One day when you don't have to think about work or do any errands and can just relax. For me, that was a Saturday. My guys and I had just finished up with new library building in Terre Haute- a good thing before it started snowing out- and had a few days before we began our next project.

I had just settled down on the couch with a mug brimming with coffee for a few hours of mindless television when Cas appeared in front of the TV. I jumped, sloshing the steaming beverage all over myself as I barked out the angel's name.

Not only was I shocked that the trench coat-wearing angel had finally decided to show his face after dropping a bomb on my brother and I but that Cas wasn't alone. And his companion was not Abdiel.

The young woman leaning on Cas was a new face to me. She had long, long dark brown hair- the colour was not dissimilar to the shade of Sam's locks- and almond-shaped amber eyes. Her lovely, heart-shaped face was pasty white, dark circles under her eyes belied illness.

"Uh, Cas, who's your girlfriend?" I asked, noticing that the young woman- who couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen years old- didn't react when I spoke.

"This is Furfur," Cas told me in his customary emotionless tone.

"Is that European?" I joked, and helped the angel sit the woman down on one of the chairs.

"Angelic," Cas informed me shortly.

"What are you doing here? Why did you bring… Furfur here?" I asked.

"You must protect her, Dean," Cas told me, "She is in shock right now but she will regain her senses."

"Why me? I can't have some teenage girl in my condo!" I exclaimed and ran a hand through my hair.

"The arrangement will not be permanent," Castiel assured me, "But Furfur is very vulnerable right now and I cannot let her alone."

I turned my gaze on the 'girl' and saw that she was staring straight ahead, as if she was looking directly through the television instead of at it.

"She's not gonna stay like this, right?" I asked. The last thing I needed was to take care of some catatonic angel.

"I already told you that she will recover," Castiel said in an annoyed tone.

"What the fuck is going on up there?" I demanded to know.

"What are you concerned about, Dean?" Cas asked. Man, I hated it when he answered a question with another question.

"You tell me! Crowley stopped by Sam's place for a chat yesterday and-" I began but the angel cut me off.

"Crowley? The demon, Crowley?" Cas asked, his blue eyes narrowing.

"No Cas, Aleister Crowley- he wanted Sam to join the Abbey of Thelema- of course I'm talking about the demon!" I snapped.

"What did Crowley want, Dean? Is Sam alright?" Cas asked, looking worried.

"Sam's fine. Crowley just wanted to know what's goin' on Upstairs," I shrugged, "Seems he can't get anything through the grapevine."

"What did Sam tell Crowley?" The angel asked and I hesitated.

"To go fuck himself," I answered.

Cas raised his eyebrows, "Look, Sam's not an idiot. He didn't tell that S.O.B anything."

The look of suspicion left the angel's face but I didn't like the idea of Cas thinking Sam was going to spill his guts to a demon. I didn't like Cas's lack of trust in my brother.

"I have stayed too long, Dean," Castiel said, "I have to leave."

"What? Just like that? What's going on with you?" I asked and blocked the angel's getaway.

"Nothing is 'going on' with me, Dean," Cas bristled, "Take care of Furfur. I will return."

The angel moved through the living room and down the short, tiled hall to the front door.

"Just as long as this place doesn't become a half-way house for all your angel buddies," I announced as Cas opened the front door, wondering why he didn't just pop out

"She is not an angel," Castiel said without turning around and disappeared in the hallway.

SPN

Abdiel hated hiding out. He felt like he always had to watch his back. When he'd gone M.I.A after the battle over Lucifer's rebellion it had been different: He knew no one was going to come looking for him, his brothers and sisters too busy celebrating their victory to notice that he'd slipped away from the party just a little too early.

"How did Gabriel do this for so long?" Abdiel muttered to himself as he sat atop of Ayers Rock, watching the sunrise.

C'mon Abdiel, you've done thing stint before; the angel thought as the blazing sun shot rays of gold and pink over the red-sand desert.

Before, Abdiel could easily have gone into hiding for millennia if he had a mind to but now all he could think about was Sam and his family. The angel worried about his friend and his family. Abdiel wanted to be there to protect Sam from Michael and Raphael.

But Abdiel knew he couldn't. He would only put Sam Winchester in more danger if he was seen anywhere near the ex-hunter.

The British angel sighed and closed his eyes.

Father, you should really see what's been happening here. The archangels are using innocent humans as pawns, talking about free will being a joke, starting up the End of Days because of their own hatred…

"I know you've been gone for a long while but I thought I'd just hide out forever too and now look at me!" Abdiel said out loud, eyes still closed but face turned skyward.

"Adam and Eve's children really need your help, Father," Abdiel continued, "Sure, there are some of us angels who care but not enough. We need the big guns for this, you know?"

Who am I kidding? The blighter hasn't said boo for eons, what's to say He'll step in now?

Abdiel peered down at the ground at the bottom of Ayers Rock and sighed, brushed red dust from his greatcoat and stepped off the edge.

W

Smog and sound bombarded Abdiel as he stepped onto the sidewalk of Fleet Street in London, England.

"Ahhh, home away from Heaven," The angel muttered and peered up at the cloudy, miserable sky.

He pulled his coat closer to his body and marched down the pavement, not really sure what he was going to do- being in Britain made Abdiel feel better though, this was the city his vessel had grown up in and the sights always pleased him- but decided not to sweat the small stuff. He knew that Castiel would make sure he stayed hidden and- his father willing- Michael would be kept in the dark about his escape from Alcatraz.

Just as long as Sam Winchester and his family is safe, that's all I bloody well care about; Abdiel told himself, the others can sod-off for all I care.

Sighing heavily, Abdiel turned from Fleet Street and onto a busy thoroughfare, seeking out a decent pub.

SPN

What the fuck was I supposed to do with the girl? She kind of started through the room for a while but finally she seemed to begin snapping out the daze she was in. She looked around the living room with wary eyes, her small body held tense and ready to spring at any moment.

Quietly I moved so that I was facing her, "Hey, are you okay? Are you thirsty?"

The girl's amber eyes narrowed but then turned sad and frightened, "Where am I?"

"You're in Cicero… Indiana," I offered.

"We are on Earth, then," She whispered, looking around the room with wide eyes.

"Uh, yeah," I rubbed the back of my neck, "Look, are you thirsty or hungry? I think I have some cold cuts… I could make you a sandwich…"

Her head turned back quickly so her eyes pinned me. I shivered, oddly reminded of Abdiel's raptor gaze. Maybe they were related somehow.

"I do not need sustenance," The young woman said, "I am an angel of the Lord."

"Uhhh, well, here's the thing Sweetheart," I began, "Cas was here about a half hour ago and according to him, you ain't an angel."

The young woman's expression turned angry, "What are you talking about? Of course I'm an-"

She stopped mid-sentence and her eyes glazed over again. Thinking that she was zoning out again, I grabbed a hold of her shoulder and was surprised to feel it trembling.

"No," The young woman whispered as tears filled her eyes, "No, no…"

"Hey, it'll be okay," I tried to comfort but I had no clue how.

I left the girl's side for a moment and went into the kitchen, filling a glass with water from the tap.

I handed the young woman the cup and she just stared at it for a moment.

"It's just water," I assured her, "You drink it."

After a moment's hesitation, the girl took the cup with both hands and sipped at the water.

Her eyes were still wary as she watched me but I didn't think she deemed me as a threat or anything.

"So, let me get this straight; Cas says that you're no angel but you're here telling me you are? Which one of you is lying?" I asked, trying not to sound like a douchebag about it.

"I was an angel," the young woman said sadly, "But… not anymore… I lost… my Grace."

"How'd you lose it? Like Anna? She ripped out her own Grace… if you did that how come you weren't reborn as a human?" I asked, bubbling with questions. I had thought I knew everything there was to know about angels and yet here I was, in the middle of another mystery.

"I did not rip out my own Grace," The young woman said as though the thought was insulting.

"Okay, than why are you here then?" I asked, "Can't you just book a flight on Heavenly Airlines and go back home?"

The girl shook her head, "I didn't rip my Grace out…"

She paused as she gulped in a couple deep breaths, tears standing out in her amber eyes, ready to fall down her pale cheeks.

The former angel dropped the glass of water- luckily it didn't break but the remaining water soaked a small patch of carpet- and wrapped her arms around her middle, fingers clutching at the blue blouse she wore.

Now I know how to comfort victims of monster attacks but I had no idea how to comfort the young woman who had seemingly not long ago been an angel.

"Take your time," I suggested, feeling really awkward.

I grabbed the box of Kleenex from the coffee table and held it out. The girl ignored them.

"…I had my Grace ripped out…" The young woman stammered.

I stared, "You mean another angel ripped it out?"

She nodded and murmured a name too quiet for me to hear.

So this is what happens when an angel's Grace is ripped from them, I thought. I've seen what happened when an angel removed their own Grace- Anna was the poster girl for that- but I hadn't known angels could take each other's Grace out… I knew a Grace was kind of like a soul for angels so while Anna was reborn as a human infant and knew nothing of her angelic origins, this girl remembered everything about being an angel… but was she human now? That seemed logical to me. Castiel hadn't been so keen to explain it all to me before flying off to God-knows-where.

I rubbed a hand through my hair. What the hell was I supposed to do with this girl now? I wanted Cas to get his butt back here and take her off my hands.

I sat down on the end of the couch, an appropriate distance from the young woman.

"So, uh, what's your name again?" I asked, "I kind of forgot."

SPN

Castiel appeared in the boardroom, invisible, and stared at the archangel before hm. Michael did not seem to notice the lower-ranking angel's presence as he leered down at the bright ball of light cupped in his hands.

The archangel's expression was decidedly hungry and Castiel shuddered from his hidden position.

That must be Furfur's Grace, Castiel thought, but what is Michael doing?

As Castiel continued watching, he wished he hadn't had his question answered.

Michael lifted the Grace up to his face, its pure white light illuminating his vessel's youthful features, and breathed deeply as though catching a pleasing scent.

The archangel closed his eyes and brought the Grace toward his chest.

Castiel's mouth dropped open in shock as Michael absorbed the ball of energy into himself; its glow flaring out from the archangel's closed eyes before becoming extinguished.

Oh Father! Oh Father! If only you could see the corruption in Your kingdom! Castiel thought frantically, wishing he could make a silent exit.

"Castiel," Michael crooned and the trench-coat wearing angel froze in terror.

Normally not one to give into fear, Cas gulped and turned visible as he felt his brother's eyes on him.

"What are you doing, brother?" Castiel managed to conceal his emotions and spoke blankly.

Michael turned to face the other angel and rolled his shoulders, "I am becoming stronger, more powerful."

"Furfur was innocent," Castiel informed the archangel.

"Yes, I see that now," Michael told him.

"This is not right, brother, you know it is not right," Castiel said cautiously.

"Is it better to be loved than feared?" Michael asked, ignoring his brother's question.

"Our Father still loves you, Michael," Castiel answered, "There is time to set things right before you lose control."

Michael's face contorted in anger, "Our Father is dead, Castiel, dead! If He loved any of us He would have returned by now!"

"What happened to you Michael?" Castiel asked.

Michael chuckled, "Sam Winchester happened to me. He pulled me down into Hell along with him and Lucifer."

Castiel nodded. Time in the Cage had warped Michael. Why hadn't he seen it before?

"I'm going to make that maggot pay," Michael whispered dangerously, "I'm going to make sure when I'm done with him he'll be begging to go to Hell!"

"Do not blame the human, Michael," Castiel tried to reason with his elder brother, "It is not his fault destiny chose the path it did for him."

"His destiny, Castiel, was to say 'yes' to Lucifer and die along with my younger brother," Michael hissed.

"But you have watched the Winchester line long enough to know that none of them follow destiny's path," Castiel continued.

Michael chuckled and ran a hand through his vessels' brownish-blond hair, "Oh but I was so close… so close and he ruined it! Even with Dean there, it didn't matter, I would have fulfilled my destiny and killed Lucifer."

"I have not forgotten the hand you played in aiding the Winchester's, Castiel," Michael told him.

Castiel thought for a moment and decided that if he had the chance to go back to that old cemetery in Lawrence, he would bring a hundred Molotov cocktails with him, just for Michael.

"I thought you were not going to harm the Winchesters," Castiel said.

Michael took a step forward, "Oh, it is not I who will harm the Winchester, Castiel, it is you."

Castiel's blue eyes widened.

"No," the trench-coat wearing angel spoke that one syllable with flint in his voice.

In the blink of an eye the angel found himself lying spread-eagle on his back atop the boardroom table, Michael's hand fisted in his dress shirt.

"Oh I think you will, Castiel," Michael smiled, "I really think you will."

SPN

After some calls I finally got Bobby to look after Furfur. Almost a week had passed and without hearing any news from Cas, I decided to make the first move.

Besides, I couldn't take care of an ex-angel all the time. I had work and S.J. and Ben to look after.

Slowly, Furfur came to the realization that she was human. She began eating and drinking- I made sure she at breakfast with me in the mornings and dinner in the evenings- I even made sandwiches for the girl and put them in the fridge for her lunches. Dehydration was something I was really concerned about so I showed her how to turn on the kitchen tap and where to find the glasses in the cupboards.

One day after work I swung by a local thrift store and bought Furfur some more clothes. Being human now meant she needed many different changes and although she looked at me quizzically when I presented her with the assortment of jeans, dresses, sweatshirts and t-shirts, she didn't argue. I don't think she had the heart to.

I tried to give her a more common sounding name- I don't know why, I was bored one night I guess- and went through a list of baby names from a site on the Internet.

After what must have been a hundred different ones I finally hit on something Furfur liked. Felicity.

"It means 'happiness' or 'good luck'," I told her and she had just smiled shyly. I had asked her if she knew what her vessel's name had been but Furfur had told me she didn't remember. I guess that made sense, it seemed like her vessel's body was Furfur's body now. I wondered momentarily what had happened to the human's soul before deciding I really didn't want to know.

W

"You'll really like Bobby," I was telling Furfur (Felicity in public) as we sat on the couch waiting for the old hunter to arrive.

"He's gruff but he's got a big heart," I smiled at the thought of Bobby's reaction when I told him I needed him to babysit an ex-angel.

We had come up with a story that Furfur was Bobby's niece from Canada, come to live with him after her parents' deaths- a car crash, nothing too dramatic- which should be good enough to placate civilians and hunters alike.

I decided to put off calling Sam and telling him about Furfur- at least until he was settled in Sheridan and his stress levels had returned to normal. No point in getting the guy worked up while he was miles away in Montana.

I heard the front door open slowly and made out the familiar sound of shuffling, booted feet on the tiled floor.

Looking over at Furfur in an old Grateful Dead sweater and used pair of blue jeans, I could have sworn she looked nervous.

Bobby poked his head into the room and smiled when he saw me. I stood and gave the old man a hug.

"When are ya going to get out and see me Dean? I'm not getting any younger, you know!" He admonished gruffly but was chuckling.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, "I'll get Lisa to let me bring Ben and S.J. out before Christmas, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," The old man laughed and then he saw Furfur.

"So, this our one-time-angel?" He asked.

I nodded, "Furfur, this is Bobby Singer."

The young woman stood and moved toward us with a grace that never ceased to take my breath away.

"Bobby… Uncle Bobby," Furfur said and shook the old hunter's hand, looking in my direction for confirmation.

I smiled and nodded.

I knew that Furfur would be in good hands with Bobby. His house was warded against all manners of supernatural creatures, including angels, and I was sure that Cas wouldn't mind giving Furfur a little extra protection.

I felt bad for the poor girl, I really did; this must have been so alien to her but she was holding up like a champ.

I wondered if she knew exactly what was going on Upstairs but I hadn't had the courage to ask her the entire week she'd been with me.

I was glad to see though that not all angels were assholes and frowned as I thought about the few ones who'd helped us over the years; Gabriel, Castiel (of course), Abdiel and Astoreth… and was disgusted at the small number.

At least we know who are friends are. Thank God for that.

I was a little sad to see Furfur leave with Bobby; my condo seemed emptier without her.

"Hm, maybe I should get myself a cat," I muttered and closed the door as the two disappeared down the hall.


	36. Running Out Of Time

Janine Daniels rolled her eyes as the drivers in the other cars around her honked their horns.

As if that'll get everyone moving faster, she thought glumly and checked the time on the dashboard clock.

It was nearing five o'clock and Janine just hoped Brad had fed the kids.

While she waited in the traffic jam, Janine took out her cell phone and dialed her home number. It rang and rang and rang until the answering machine came on: 'This is the Daniels family! We can't come to phone right now but if you leave a message we'll get back to you!'

Racking her brain, Janine tried to remember if Olivia had ballet that night or if Trevor had soccer practice.

She was never this late coming home and Janine wondered if Brad would be worried.

He'll call if he needs to; Janine told herself and turned up the radio.

W

Janine pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and stepped over her son's bike as she got out of the car.

"I thought I told him to put that thing back when he's finished with it," Janine muttered to herself.

She had had a long day of work and all she wanted to do was watch The Real Housewives of Atlanta and have a big glass of wine.

Opening the door, Janine peered inside the oddly quiet house.

"Brad? You home, honey?" She called and slipped off her high heel shoes.

"Olivia? Trevor?" Janine said and looked around the living room. Trevor's soccer bag was sitting on top of the couch, ready to go.

"Did soccer get canceled?" Janine called out again and jumped when her husband, Brad, appeared from deeper inside the house.

"Yeah; last minute thing, you know," Brad shrugged.

Janine stared at her husband of fourteen years and realized that something was off.

"Where's the kids?" She asked, "I told Olivia she couldn't go to her friends' houses until dinner. Did you make them dinner?"

Brad was holding something behind his back as he walked forward, a strange glint in his eyes.

"I'm glad you're home, Janine," Brad said, "I've been waiting for you."

Janine was suddenly confused, "What-"

She began to speak but the words died in her throat as a scream tore from her. Janine didn't stop screaming even as she was slammed into the living room wall, her back smashing into a picture frame and shattering the glass. Janine didn't stop screaming even as Brad's eyes turned pitch black and he held up a large, gleaming butcher's knife.

Janine only stopped screaming when, hours later, the thing that used to be her husband snapped her neck without even touching her.

SPN

"Daddy! Daddy, wake up!" I groaned and opened my eyes to see Faith peering at me, her small hands on my shoulder.

"Okay," I mumbled and sat up, "I'm awake. Where's Mom?"

"Downstairs with Aaron," Faith replied and I turned my head to see that Sarah's side of the bed was empty.

I sighed and fell back against the mattress.

"C'mon Daddy," Faith pulled herself up onto the bed and sat cross-legged by my head.

"Are you sick?" My daughter asked, her blue eyes becoming worried.

"No, I'm tired," I answered. I had trouble sleeping the night before and once I did get some rest it was interrupted by nightmares.

Faith brightened up, "Mommy said we're gonna go to the park today!"

I smiled when I heard Sarah call up to our daughter, "Faith, I hope you're not bothering your father!"

Faith's dark blue eyes sparkled mischievously as she slid off the bed and tiptoed out of the room and down the hall. I heard the gurgle of water coming from the bathroom sink and smiled.

I climbed out of bed and closed the bedroom door. I stretched, fingertips pointing toward the ceiling, and turned toward the chest of drawers to find clean clothes.

I paused as I rifled through my t-shirts, pulling out a black one as I straightened up.

Five years, I thought, I can't believe it's been five years.

Five years of living the American Dream. Literally. Seemed almost too good to be true, eh? Five years of living in a normal house, going to a normal job, doing normal parent things, etc. The most interesting thing to happen in five years was Faith's bout of chicken pox.

I sometimes missed Petit- I think Sarah did too- I missed the quiet nights and friendly rural folk. I missed the friends I'd made there; Coombs and Leo and Ralph, the Meyers and the Addisons, the girls at the library… I still sent the Sheriff of Petit letters every month- he still didn't have a home computer but I didn't mind writing.

Coombs made sure to let me know what was happening in Petit and every month I'd get an envelope in the mail. The man was dedicated, I'll give him that. I was sure he'd get bored of hearing about the city but he always wrote back.

Making friends in Sheridan was a little more difficult. I've always been shy and anyone who came over for dinner or drinks or a barbeque (except Dean and the boys) I considered 'Sarah's friends'.

I still felt like the outsider, the stranger, and sometimes that feeling became overwhelming, overpowering and I wondered if I should just leave. I sometimes thought that Sarah and the kids would be better off without me.

I never did go. I always managed to tell myself I was just acting paranoid and that the feeling came from years of hunting. While Dean would be antsy and restless as hell, I would feel like a stranger in a strange land. I told myself it would break Sarah's heart if I left her. I told myself Dean would be disappointed- he had managed to integrate back into civilian society after being a hunter- so why couldn't I?

SPN

Time flies, yeah?

It was hard for me to believe that S.J. was eight-years-old already. Little guy grew like a weed. He had my sense of humour and my awesome good looks.

Kid was a sports wiz too. He loved playing baseball and soccer. I came to as many of S.J.'s games as I could.

As the years went by it slowly became just S.J. and me… Ben grew older and I guess it wasn't cool anymore to hang out with his divorced step-father. We still got along, don't get me wrong, but Ben was a young man, eighteen and getting ready to go to college.

I loved having Sammy live so close. A half-hour was nothing compared to the long, long plane ride to Montana. Sam and Sarah's place ended up being like a second home- I spent as much time as possible with my brother and his family.

I think that I sometimes annoyed my little brother with my unannounced visits but he never said anything.

W

Our two resident angels had apparently gone AWOL on us. Not that I was complaining, not really. Sam was worried about Cas and Abdiel. I figured that they'd show up when something important was about to go down and didn't dwell on their absence.

Besides, I was kind of glad Cas wasn't stopping in for a visit, him being the bearer of doom and gloom recently.

The only heavenly creature we had any contact with was Furfur and she didn't really count.

Speaking of, Sam was shocked when I told him about the ex-angel now living at Bobby's. I had to stop my overzealous brother from bombarding Furfur with questions the first time they met one another. I actually felt bad for the girl; she remembered everything about being an angel but she seemed permanently cut off from Heaven. Bobby didn't complain about having another mouth to feed though (I was worried he'd go on about how he was too old for that sort of shit) and I think he secretly liked the company.

Furfur was a wealth of information as well. We learned more about what was going on up in Heaven than Cas and Abdiel had been willing to tell. Bobby had started writing down all of the information on Heaven Furfur had for his collection.

I actually wasn't surprised to learn that Michael had decided that he was now the Big Cheese. He had been an asshole from the very beginning.

At first Furfur hated it at Bobby's… I think she was homesick- she just stayed in the bedroom Bobby had made up for her and refused to come downstairs or eat or anything- but after a couple of days (according to the old hunter) she was drawn by the smell of scrambled eggs Bobby was having for breakfast and after that the ex-angel warmed up to him.

Now it seemed as if Furfur had always been with Bobby. She went everywhere with him and was very protective- I guess that aspect of her nature hadn't been torn out with her Grace.

W

Pulling into the parking lot of the elementary school, I couldn't help but grin when I caught sight of S.J. peel away from his group of friends and come running at the truck.

"Hey buddy," I greeted as my son flung open the passenger door and scrambled inside.

"Hi Dad!" S.J. beamed up at me, the freckles across his nose very noticeable.

"What do ya say we do pizza and a movie?" The question was merely a formality. Every weekend I treated S.J. to pizza and a move.

"What do you want to watch?" I asked as I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, careful to avoid the young students traveling to their own parents' cars.

"The Avengers!" We had watched that same movie for the past three weekends and although it was pretty entertaining, I was ready for something new.

"Okay bud, you got it," I didn't betray anything.

The drive to the condo didn't take very long, as soon S.J. was jumping out of the truck and over to the elevator that would take us from the underground parking lot to my floor.

"C'mon Dad, hurry up!" S.J. whined, hopping up and down, his backpack bouncing with the movement.

I smirked and shook my head as I locked the truck. Sometimes I forget just how much energy eight-year-old boys have.

"Dad," S.J. called out with more emphasis and pulled open the metal door that led to the elevators.

I caught the door before it swung close, "The movie will still be there in a few minutes, S.J. don't worry."

My son pushed the round button for the elevator and slipped his backpack off, setting it on the floor between his feet.

"But I wanna watch the movie now," S.J. informed me.

I ran a hand through his short, blondish hair- a colour I had a feeling he'd inherited from my Mom's side of the family- and gently pushed him forward as the elevator beeped and its doors slid open.

Hooking his backpack, S.J. hurried into the lift and pressed the button that would take us to the correct floor.

"Do you have homework this weekend?" I asked and S.J. nodded, a pout forming on his face.

"Mrs. Jones always gives homework on the weekends," He huffed, sounding remarkably like Sam did whenever he was annoyed.

Mrs. Jones was S.J.'s substitute teacher because his regular one, Mrs. Cochrane, was on maternity leave.

"How about we make a deal," I offered, "We watch the Avengers tonight and tomorrow morning you do your homework, okay? I'll even help you out if you get stuck."

S.J. perked up a bit. He seemed to have inherited my dislike of school and would gladly play games and watch movies all weekend instead of his school work.

"Okay," S.J. answered and his hazel eyes crinkling in excitement.

Stepping out of the elevator when it reached the right floor, I was surprised when S.J. took my hand. He normally liked to rush ahead and try and do things by himself.

"What's up, kiddo?" I asked even as I wrapped my fingers around my son's small hand.

"Nuthin'," S.J. answered and gave my hand a squeeze before shooting forward to the door of my condo.

My brow furrowed in concern- S.J. wasn't normally clingy or prone to spontaneous moments of affection- and decided I'd ask him about it later.

As soon as I unlocked the door S.J. slipped inside and pulled off his sneakers, threw his backpack on the floor and ran and jumped on the couch facing the TV.

"C'mon Dad!" He called from the living room as I shut the door behind myself and unlaced my boots.

"Can we have pizza now?" S.J. continued.

"Are you hungry? It's only three-thirty," I answered and peered into the tiny kitchen, looking at the wall phone to see if I had any messages.

"Uh huh," S.J. didn't sound very convinced about his own request and I smiled.

"Why don't we have a snack and I'll order the pizza for around, say, five," I said and opened the fridge to see if there was anything in there S.J. would like to eat.

I heard him leave the couch and pad across the floor to the kitchen. He poked his head into the fridge beside me.

"How about some Jell-O?" I asked and pulled one of those pre-portioned gelatin cups from the fridge.

"We have… strawberry," I checked the flavour, "that sound good to you?"

"Yeah!" S.J. took the Jell-O cup from me and pulled off the tab, licking it to get all the gelatin off.

I grabbed a second one from the fridge and took two spoons from the drawer.

"Sit down at the table, buddy," I told S.J. and he moved over to the tiny, glass topped table, scooping up large spoonfuls of Jell-O as he moved.

Once we had finished with the snack I took S.J. into the living room and turned off the TV.

"Dad, I thought we were gonna watch the Avengers," S.J. whined as I found a news station.

"We will, I just want to check out what's happening," I answered and turned up the volume.

S.J. slumped against the couch cushions and his eyes glazed over with boredom as he stared at the pictures flashing across the screen.

I still liked to watch the nation-wide news stations, keeping an eye out for anything odd that could be attributed to a supernatural creature. I was retired of course, but if I did notice something, I would call up Bobby and he'd call someone in his large network of active hunters. It never hurt to have another pair of eyes out there. Hunters couldn't be everywhere at once and certainly didn't know everything that was going on in the country.

After a mind numbing ten minutes of news from Boston, S.J. slipped off the couch and fell bonelessly to the floor.

I pretended not to notice and continued watching the TV.

S.J. picked himself up only to flop onto the floor again with a grunt of annoyance.

"Dad," he whined, "Are you done yet? The news is so boring."

Finding nothing interesting in the news anyway, I peered down at S.J. lying between the couch and coffee table.

"Do you want to watch Avengers now or while we have pizza?" I asked, "There's still an hour until dinner."

S.J. picked his head up and appeared to be giving my question serious thought.

"Hmm, now," He informed me, "S'two hours long so we can still watch it and have pizza."

I nodded and chuckled at the boy's reasoning.

SPN

Bobby Singer grumbled to himself as he rifled through the pile of papers on his desk.

"Where the hell did I put those papers?" Bobby muttered under his breath, pushing his reading glasses farther up his nose as he searched.

He didn't even hear the soft footsteps moving toward him until a small, pale hand dug a sheet of paper out from underneath the mound on the desk.

Chagrinned, Bobby took the paper from Furfur and grumbled a 'thank you'.

"Perhaps you should rest, Robert," the ex-angel suggested in a neutral voice.

"What? Nah," Bobby muttered, "I'm fine."

Furfur's amber eyes searched the old hunter's face for a moment before she nodded.

"What is that paper for?" Furfur asked and began braiding her long, brown hair unconsciously.

"Oh, this is for Rufus… he thinks he's got a Lamia out in Rexville, New York," Bobby explained and scratched his head beneath his baseball cap.

Furfur tilted her head to one side, birdlike and watched the aging hunter for a long moment.

"Have you heard from Samuel or Dean Winchester lately?" The former angel asked in a soft voice.

"Uh, Dean called me a couple a' days ago," Bobby shrugged, "Sam and I talked about the family comin' up for a visit soon."

"You miss them," Furfur stated.

""Course I miss them! They're my boys! Practically sons to me," Bobby grumbled, a little irritated even though he knew the young woman was just trying to understand.

"Are you going to tell them about the murder in Miami?" Furfur asked, amber eyes piercing into Bobby's grey ones.

Bobby bit his lip. It wasn't only the murder in Florida that concerned him; there was the one in Arkansas, the two in California, the one in Alaska.

Even though the killings had been all over the map, the M.O. was the same. A family was found butchered in their homes and the only witnesses (and suspects) were the husbands, found by police in a state of shock a few hours after the crimes had been committed.

As far as Bobby could tell, each husband stood by his claim of innocence. A couple of them had even said that something had made them kill their loved ones. Now if that didn't set a hunter's alarm bells off, nothing would.

Bobby, of course, had called up all his contacts in the hunting community to keep their eyes sharp for electrical storms, cattle deaths and crop failures. Easier said than done- there were more creatures than just demons to watch out for- but everyone Bobby had talked to said he or she would let him know if they saw any demon signs.

But Bobby was reluctant to tell the boys. Five years had passed without so much as a werewolf hiccup in their direction and Bobby wanted to keep it that way.

Sam and Dean were retired, Bobby knew, and although retired was not always permanent for a hunter (unless said hunter was six feet under) the last thing he wanted was to disturb their peace.

God knows the boys had earned some peace and quiet and normal.

Bobby looked away from Furfur's steady gaze.

"I can't… not yet," He knew he was being weak, selfish, but he didn't want to see those boys dragged into the hunting life they'd only just managed to escape.

SPN

I stared around at the other parents taking advantage of the nice weather as I pushed Aaron on the swing.

"Higher, Daddy! I wanna go higher!" The little boy shrieked with delight as I started pushing him higher.

His black hair blew back from his smiling face with the wind and his small feet kicked with every upward motion.

Looking across the park, I saw Sarah sitting on one of the wooden benches, talking to another mom… but I didn't see Faith anywhere.

As Aaron came swinging downwards I grabbed my son and lifted him off the plaything.

"Daddy!" He squawked in surprise and annoyance.

"Go see Mommy," I told Aaron, "Maybe she'll give you a snack."

I watched as Aaron ran towards Sarah, hoping my wife would placate the boy with some graham crackers or something.

Taking my gaze off my son, my hunter instincts rushed to the surface as I scanned the sandbox and jungle gym for a glimpse of curly, dark brown hair and brilliant violet eyes.

Where did I last see Faith? I thought, trying to scour my memory. I had been paying more attention to Aaron…

I turned and looked at a group of older kids in soccer uniforms playing a game across the field.

Where? Where? Where!

My heart began to pound in my chest as I still couldn't see my daughter.

My stomach twisted into a cold knot as I caught sight of a pink dress and curly brown hair.

"Hey! Hey, you!" I was running before I knew it and skidded to a stop at the copse of trees that stood at the far side of the park.

"Dad," Faith looked surprised and I pushed her behind me so that I alone was facing the creep she'd been talking to.

"Get the fuck out of here before I call the police!" I growled, not caring that I was swearing.

"Hey man, chill out," the guy held his hands up. He was shorter than me and skinny, with messy blond hair and shrewd colourless eyes.

I grabbed the pervert's shirt, "We were just talkin'! Weren't we, sweetie?"

That comment got my blood boiling.

"Go to your mother," I told Faith.

"Dad," Faith answered unsurely.

"Go!" I snapped. I wasn't mad at her but I didn't want her to see while I pummeled this asshole.

I heard Faith's footsteps disappear into the background noise of the park and turned my attention back to the creep.

"If I ever see you near this park again or my daughter again," I threatened, leaning close to the man, "I won't even call the police… I'll deal with you myself and believe me when I tell you I know things that will make you wish you were in Hell after I'm done with you."

I don't know if it was my words or the fact that I towered over the guy but his face paled and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

"Understand me?" I asked and shook the man for emphasis.

"Y-yeah," the man squeaked out, "S-sure wh-whatever you say."

I let go of the creep's shirt and patted his shoulder. Apparently he thought I was finished because he slumped.

He didn't see my fist coming until it connected with his nose, breaking it with a satisfying crunch. He stumbled backwards and fled through the trees, sparing one look back at me, his eyes as wide as saucers.

I shook my hand out, checking the knuckled and was pleased to see that they weren't split.

As I approached the park, Sarah met me half way, cooler bag dangling from one shoulder and Faith and Aaron in tow.

"Sam, what happened?" She asked and raised my chin with a hand- not an easy task since she's shorter than I am- and peered at me in concern.

"Faith came running over and said you were mad at the man she was talking to," Sarah continued, "What man?"

"Don't worry," I assured my wife, "I don't think he'll be showing his face around here anytime soon."

"You didn't hurt him, did you?" Sarah asked and I grimaced.

"Can we discuss this at home?" I begged, giving Sarah the puppy-eyes because I didn't feel like talking about the pervert in the middle of the park with kids and moms within hearing distance.

"And I also want to have a talk with Faith, too," I concluded and led my family toward the car.

W

Okay, maybe I had overreacted with the guy in the park but I was not taking any chances. Sarah's expression turned from one of shock to anger as I told her what had happened when I went in search of our daughter.

"You can't go around knocking people out, Sam! You're not a hunter anymore and you'll only get yourself in trouble," my wife scolded me as we stood in the kitchen. Faith had been sent to her room and Aaron was watching a movie in the living room.

I took a deep breath. I knew Sarah wasn't stupid and she was wary of strangers- probably even more so than I was because of maternal instincts or something- but I didn't like the way she was talking to me like I didn't know any better.

"I didn't knock him out, I just broke his nose," I muttered.

"What if he calls the police? What if he calls it assault?" Sarah folded her arms.

I shook my head, "If he's some perv he's not going to want to draw attention to himself by whining to the police."

That didn't make Sarah feel any better.

"Sam," Sarah sighed as if tired. Tired of me?

"I had to protect our daughter," I spoke before my wife could say anything else.

"I get that," Sarah continued, "I really do. But you have to remember that you're not a hunter anymore."

I scowled at my wife.

For most of my life I hunted every supernatural badass out there with my father and brother and that wasn't something I was going to forget. I wasn't going to pretend to be Average Joe and call the cops when I could take care of things my way.

"I'm not apologizing, if that's what you're waiting for," I told Sarah stubbornly.

"I don't want an apology, Sam!" Sarah threw up her hands in exasperation, "I want to know that you're not going to get yourself into trouble and leave us all alone!"

I froze.

"Why would I do that, Sarah? Huh?" I snapped.

"You won't be able to help yourself!" Sarah snarled back.

"Jesus Christ, Sarah! I can control myself, you know!" I continued and ran a hand through my hair.

Sarah's eyes grew large and wet although I could still see anger reflected in their grey depths.

"You didn't show me that today at the park," Sarah accused.

I paced across the kitchen for a moment, glowering at my wife.

"I know what I'm doing Sarah! I'm not a child!" I growled, irritated that my wife was treating me like I had no idea what I was doing.

Sarah though, ended the argument before it could get any worse.

She waved her hands in the air, "I can't talk to you right now."

I watched as Sarah walked out of the kitchen without looking back.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. I sat down heavily at the kitchen table and watched as the hour hand on the clock moved in one full circle before standing up again.

I went to the fridge and grabbed a soda- Mountain Dew- and gulped down half the contents before turning around.

Faith was standing in the kitchen doorway, a sheepish look on her face that looked oddly familiar. She scuffed the toe of her pink sneaker on the floor.

"M'sorry I was talkin' to that man in the park," She said, eyes cast downwards.

I set the can of Mountain Dew on the counter and knelt in front of Faith so that we were eye level.

"Do you know why you shouldn't have done that?" I asked. Sarah must have gone upstairs to give Faith a lecture on talking to strangers after our argument.

Faith nodded slowly, "'Cause you and Mommy weren't with me."

"That's right," I said and held my arms out. Faith stepped forward for the hug.

"I'm sorry if you thought I was mad at you," I whispered over the top of my daughter's head as she buried her face into my shoulder.

"I was just worried about you," I continued and I hear Faith sniffle a couple of times, "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you or Aaron."

"Won't do it again," Faith muttered against my shirt.

"That's a good girl," I said and squeezed Faith one more time before letting go.

I know I've always been one for 'chick-flick moments' as Dean has deemed them and it seemed to get even worse now that I have little kids in my life. They are not shy about showing affection and are unabashedly emotional. Not that I mind at all. I just make sure to keep them to a minimum. I'm the father after all; girly, sensitive moments are Sarah's job.

Faith pulled away and smiled, "Can we play in the backyard, Daddy?"

"Sure thing, Sweetheart," I stood and swiped my soda from the counter, following my daughter out through the living room to the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard.

"Where's Mom and Aaron?" I asked as I opened the door and Faith slipped through, stepping onto the flagstone patio.

The backyard wasn't huge but it was pretty big. The flagstone part was large enough to hold an outdoors table and four chairs and a barbeque.

The yard was fenced-in which was nice with the young kids. Flower gardens ran along three sides and a vegetable patch took up the fourth.

There was a small storage shed in one corner of the yard for the two extra chairs that went with the patio set, a lawnmower, some tools and the kid's outside toys.

Faith grabbed a soccer ball that sat at the edge of the patio and kicked it towards me.

Soon we had a one-on-one game underway, Faith laughing as she got the ball past me. Every time. What can I say? I can't win all the time, can I?

I didn't even notice that Sarah was standing on the patio, watching until she started clapping, "And Faith Winchester wins the world cup for the United States!"

I sat down at the table as Faith continued to play by herself.

"Where's Aaron?" I asked Sarah. She had her arms crossed over her chest but didn't look angry any longer.

"Taking a nap," Sarah answered, "He's tired from all the excitement at the park."

Sarah spoke lightly and since I didn't want to start another fight I just nodded and decided to change the subject.

"You want steak for dinner tonight?" I asked, eyeing the barbeque. The weather had been so nice that I ended up standing over the appliance almost every evening.

Sarah's eyebrows scrunched up in mock concentration, "What about the kids?"

"I think there's a couple of those pounded steak things in the freezer… Faith and Aaron seem to like those," I commented.

Sarah smiled, "Steak it is then."

SPN

"So, you gonna tell me what's up?" I asked S.J. over a slice of cheese and pepperoni pizza. The Avengers was playing in the background but the boy was now more interested in his dinner than watching the movie.

S.J. took a huge bite of pizza so he wouldn't have to talk right away and stared at the TV screen instead.

"C'mon buddy, what's up? You can tell me, you know you can," I pressed. I may not be all for touchy-feely moments like Sam is but I have learned over the years that sometimes I have to man-up and take one for the team if it comes to S.J. The kid could be just as stubborn as his mother (or his uncle, for that matter) and he wasn't just gonna spit out whatever was bothering him. Besides, I knew from the experience of watching Sam and our Dad go at for years that you needed to talk to your kids or else your relationship with them was going to go down the crapper real fast.

"C'mon kiddo," I bumped S.J.'s shoulder like I would do with Sam if something was bugging him and my son gulped down his mouthful before sighing.

"Mom's thinking about marrying Wayne," S.J. said and I just about choked on my own bite of pizza.

You remember Wayne? The asshole who was taking Lisa out for dinner and drinks? Well apparently it got a little more serious than just friendly meals together because four months later I found out from S.J. and Ben that Wayne was moving in with Lisa.

Other than being common-law for the past few years, nothing monumental had happened between my ex-wife and Wayne. Until this new revelation.

"That's what's bothering you?" I asked and S.J. nodded.

Apparently Lisa liked the normal Wayne the Accountant brought to their relationship. I'd met his a few times when I went to pick up the boys. Okay, maybe Wayne wasn't really an accountant but he sure acted like one. From what I could tell, Wayne had the personality of a bar of soap. Everything about him was bland and boring: his clothes, his features, and his voice.

Just what Lisa needed after the insanity named Dean Winchester she'd married.

I set my pizza aside and looked into my son's distraught face. Clearly there was more on his mind than the possibility one boring step-parent.

"Is that everything?" I continued and S.J. shook his head, biting his lower lip.

"What if Wayne wants to be my new Dad?" My son asked in a worried voice, "What if I'm not allowed to see you no more?"

I sighed, "I'll still be your Dad, kiddo. Even if your Mom marries Wayne. You'll just have a step-Dad. That doesn't mean that I'll stop seeing you though."

S.J. looked a little better, "Promise?"

"I promise," I said, "Nothing will ever stop me from being your Dad, okay?"

S.J. nodded, "I don't like Wayne so much."

I smirked but resisted the urge to say something nasty about the absent accountant.

"I'm sure he's not as bad as you think," I said, trying to keep a straight face.

"He's soooo boring, Dad! Wayne doesn't do anything fun… he collects stamps for Cripes sake!" S.J. complained.

I snorted laughter, imagining the guy drooling over some old stamps.

"He's nuthin' like you," S.J. pouted.

I smiled at that.

"That's because I'm one of the kind," I announced and reached forward to ruffle S.J.'s short hair.

SPN

Bobby's lips formed a thin white line as his eyes moved across the computer screen. Another murder had occurred in Toledo, Ohio and that was just a little too close to home for the aging hunter.

Bobby knew he may not be able to do a whole lot to protect his boys but he could still investigate the crimes for himself. Something about them just screamed DEMON and although Sam and Dean had assured him that they and Crowley had some kind of truce… old Bobby Singer trusted that Hell spawn as far as he could throw him.

W

Bobby strolled down the sidewalk toward Toledo's Police Department. He fussed with his tie and patted his breast pocket, making sure- for the hundredth time- that he had his fake FBI badge and ID.

It was a hot, dry summer day and Bobby wished he was back in Sioux Falls working on an old Buick he'd been tinkering. Instead he was about to interview the latest victim of a particularly sadistic demon.

Huh, Bobby smoothed his flyaway hair, since when are demons anything but sadistic?

Stepping into the redbrick, air-conditioned building, Bobby put on his professional face and turned to the nearest officer.

"Excuse me," Bobby reached out a hand and caught the young policewoman by her arm, just above the elbow, "I'm with the FBI. I'm here to talk to Mr. Ngugi about the murder committed yesterday."

The policewoman's brow furrowed, "I didn't know the Feds were involved in this… we were told it was an isolated incident."

Bobby nodded sagely, "There have been similar murders committed in other states over the past three weeks and we're just trying to establish if they are in face connected."

The old hunter's words seemed to convince the policewoman and she nodded, "Mr. Ngugi is in one of our interrogation rooms right now."

She led Bobby through whitewashed hallways until she stopped before a door with a window of one-way glass to one side.

An African American man sitting at the large table was the room's only occupant.

"His lawyer is coming to see him," the policewoman explained with a shrug.

"May I?" Bobby gestured toward the door and the policewoman, looking slightly sheepish, unlocked it and pushed it open slightly.

"Thank you," Bobby murmured and slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

Mr. Ngugi peered up at the fake FBI agent with bloodshot, shadowed eyes. Bobby couldn't help the sympathetic expression that crossed his face as he reached into his pocket. As he grabbed his ID, his fingers pushed down on the ON button of a tape recorder.

"I'm Agent Carlin with the FBI," Bobby flashed his badge; "I'd like to ask you a few questions about the events of Saturday, June 13th if you don't mind."

The man looked uncertain for a moment, "Don't I need my lawyer?"

"This'll be unofficial," Bobby said, "No one will know about this conversation 'cept me and you."

Still, Mr. Ngugi looked at the FBI agent with trepidation.

Bobby sat down across from the man, "I know what the police report says, alright? I know everyone thinks you killed your family but I want to know what happened to you. What really happened?"

The man leaned back in his chair and ran one hand- the other was handcuffed to the table- through his short hair.

"You wanna know the truth? You won't think I'm crazy?" Mr. Ngugi asked.

Bobby shook his head, "With the things I've seen it'd take a hell of a lot to make me think you were off your rocker."

"Okay," the man consented. The agent wasn't like the police officers he had contact with so far. Agent Carlin did not insinuate that he'd murdered his family in cold blood as the other law enforcement personnel had done.

"Start from the beginning," Bobby suggested.

W

Damn it all to Hell!

Bobby Singer slipped his grimy baseball cap on as he climbed into the cab of an old, junky pickup truck he'd driven in from his Salvage Yard.

The murders were definitely the work of a demon, he was sure of it. Mr. Ngugi hadn't made it to work the day his family had been murdered. He remembered getting up and getting ready, having breakfast with his wife and two daughters before he got in his car to go to his job at a local insurance firm. Mr. Ngugi lost time after that. He didn't remember anything except waking up to see the mutilated bodies of his wife and daughters spread out before him and their blood on his hands.

The man had not recalled the smell of sulfur or seeing any black smoke at all during the morning and that was what troubled Bobby the most. If it was indeed the work of a demon, surely it would leave the telltale signs.

The only thing Bobby could gather from the lack of demonic evidence was that it had to be one sneaky son of a bitch. Most likely it didn't stay around long enough to cause electrical storms or cattle deaths and crop failures.

Bobby called his home number while he drove and instructed Furfur to gather all the books he had on demons.

"It's gonna be a long night," he commented to the young woman.

"Would you like me to start researching for you, Robert?" Furfur offered.

After only a moment's hesitation Bobby decided they'd do better to get a head start while he was still on the road.

Bobby ran a hand over his face, eyeing his phone and trying to decide if he should call his boys. He just didn't want to send them into unnecessary panic.

When I get home and have some idea of what this bastard is, Bobby promised himself, I'll give Sam and Dean a head's up.

SPN

I'll admit that I got nervous when Bobby called me up Monday evening, warning me to keep an eye out for demon signs.

"You think there's one nearby?" I asked over the phone, standing in the kitchen and trying to keep the conversation on the down-low.

"Maybe," Bobby confessed, "Now I'm not saying you should worry. You've heard about those murders in the news? Well, it seems that this thing has only goes after the men but you and Dean have those tattoos so if I were you I wouldn't spend much sleepless nights on this… just keep your eyes peeled for anything hinky."

"Thank you Bobby," I murmured sarcastically, "That makes me feel so much better."

I heard the old hunter sigh. Of course he'd know I'd worry and not sleep over this new information.

"Did you tell Dean yet?" I asked and ran a hand through my hair.

"Just gonna call him as soon as I'm done with you," Bobby assured me.

I shrugged before speaking into the receiver, "Sure. But you know he'll probably be hopping mad about it."

Bobby chuckled, "Just as long as it's not me he's ready to tear a new one."

W

Dean became the mother hen when he heard what Bobby had to say apparently. Forty minutes after I'd hung up on Bobby, a knock on the front door announced my brother's arrival.

I frowned when I saw that Dean had his old hunting duffle with him.

He gave me what he must have thought was a charming smile and led me down into the basement.

"Dean, what's in there?" I asked, pointing at the bag that clunked onto the coffee table when he set it down.

"Just precautions, Sammy," my brother tried to assure me.

I narrowed my eyes, "If you haven't noticed, I have two small children running around who like to get their hands on everything."

"That's why you don't leave stuff sitting out," Dean countered, "Haven't you and Sarah ever heard of child-proofing?"

"Not funny," I snarked.

Dean raised an eyebrow, "I know it's not funny. That's why I'm here. You have nothing to fight off this demon Bobby's so worked up about."

I sighed, "Dean, I'm sure Bobby told you this too… it attacks guys and we're protected against possession, remember?"

My brother didn't look convinced, "I'd still feel better if you had something."

Still I refused, "Crowley's called us off-limits. I don't think anyone would want to mess with him, he's a pretty powerful demon."

Something flashed across my brother's face and I blanched.

"What?" I asked, worried Dean was about to say something important.

It was Dean's turn to sigh and he gazed at me sheepishly before rubbing the back of a neck. He was nervous, then.

"Oh Hell," Dean muttered, "I guess I should have told you long ago."

"Told me what?" I demanded, "Dean, what is going on?"

My brother looked at my expression for a moment and then laughed, "Don't you look like you're waiting for test results back! Chill out… it's not that big of a deal."

I clenched my jaw tight, "Than what is it, Dean?"

Dean hesitated, "No need to get angry, little bro. Okay, well, Crowley isn't just a demon anymore, alright? Let's say he moved up the food chain."

"What does that mean exactly? You know, if I wanted someone to give me cryptic answers I'd call up Cas," I really wasn't in the mood to play games with my brother.

"After you sent Lucifer back to Hell," Dean paused when he saw me flinch. Yes, it had been years since I'd taken that nose dive into the Cage but some days the memories were as fresh as though I had escaped only yesterday.

"After… that… Crowley became the head honcho. I don't know how; I don't follow demon politics but that's what happened. I guess with Lilith and Alistair out of the picture and with Daddy Demon back in his box, Crowley weaseled his way in… guess he was stronger than the competition anyhow," Dean explained.

"Oh…Kay," I said slowly, absorbing this new information.

Dean waited for me.

"So do you think Crowley's pulling this demon's strings," I asked.

Dean shrugged, "He is the boss now. I mean, we may be a no go but that doesn't include the rest of the male population."

"But you've still brought weapons," I pointed out, "So you think maybe Crowley would go back on his word?"

"Hell yeah! Sure he said he was grateful to you for putting Lucifer back in the Cage and all that shit but we didn't exactly seal the deal with a kiss or anything," Dean exclaimed.

I knew what Dean was talking about. We could not trust demons. No matter how many times they claimed to be our pals. Just look at Meg and Ruby.

"What's in the bag?" I asked and stepped forward.

"I thought you'd never ask," Dean grinned and unzipped the duffle.

I leaned forward as my brother made a big production of rummaging through his duffle.

Dean pulled out the demon killing knife and smiled. He held it out, the handle toward me.

"Dean," I shook my head and he frowned.

"What?" my brother asked.

"I'm not taking that," I told him.

Dean lowered the blade, "Why not? You need something to defend yourself with and you were always better with knives than firearms."

I didn't respond.

"Look, do you want the Colt?" he asked, "'Cause I'll give you that instead if you really want it."

I sighed and wiped a hand over my face, "Fine, give me the knife."

Dean's serious expression did not change as he handed me Ruby's knife.

"See, it wasn't that hard, now was it?" Dean smirked.

"Shut up," I snapped.

SPN

A couple of months passed, school let out and there was no sign of the murderous demon. Both Sam and I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Crowley had reined his dog in. Or maybe it hadn't been a demon at all, maybe it had just been some weird phenomenon- I know I'm no psychologist but strange shit happens all the time that has nothing to do with the supernatural, right?

Right.

I spent a lot of time at work- summer being construction season- and making friendly jibes at my brother for getting two months off.

Sam did take a teaching position- a local high school History retired just in time for Sammy to take the job- despite his reluctance- thanks to some less-than-light prodding from Sarah and yours truly.

I liked to think that my brother was happy living in suburbia. I mean, I was and I had always been the brother who wanted to hunt.

But sometimes though, I think Sam missed Montana. I never asked him about it- you know me and talking about feelings- but it was still evident that city life stressed him out a bit.

Although I did see Sam more often, we both had our own lives- our own families and jobs and friends (well, at least I had friends. I don't think Sam had made a single friend since moving to Indiana) and sometimes a couple of weeks would go by before we saw each other.

Where was I? Oh yeah. I knew Sam was stressed, even if it was on a low simmer most of the time.

Sam never talked about it though- which was unusual for him- and I never asked. As long as Sammy had things under control than I didn't see a point in bringing it up.

The move to Indiana was hard on everyone. Sam and Sarah didn't really want to move but they'd both decided- and Bobby and I agreed with them- that it would be safer for everyone if they left the state.

The hardest decision about the move had been what to do with their horses. There was no way my brother and his wife were going to sell them to strangers. Luckily, their neighbours, you know the ones with the dairy cows? Well, they offered to take the horses and give them a good home and even I was happy to see they weren't going to be sold for glue or leather or something.

Sam and I became rarities. Retired hunters who weren't batshit insane or drowning ourselves in booze.

It was actually nice to have a family… see my boys grow up and not have to worry about whether I'd be eaten by a werewolf or drained by a vampire tomorrow.

Most of the time.

I still thought about the narrowly averted Apocalypse, the angels (especially Cas and Abdiel), what might still be in store for our family, etc. but I had to remember that it was not my job anymore. There were more and more hunters everyday and Goddamnit if anyone needed to retire it was Sam and I. After everything that we'd been through, it was about time we passed the torch.

W

I grinned at my brother sitting in the pickup's passenger seat. He didn't look all that comfortable.

"Now I know what a sardine feels like," Sam grumbled good-naturedly.

"This can't be that bad," I argued, "I can't imagine how you manage to fit into Sarah's Audi."

Sam chuckled.

We were almost home, having spent a weekend up at Bobby's place for a 'Guy's Weekend'. It had really been Sarah's idea. She thought the Sam, Bobby and I should get to spend some time together without her and a bunch of kids running around (Lisa had never met Bobby but I liked to take S.J. and Ben up to meet their 'grandpa' from my side).

Sam was exhausted. We had stayed up until three o'clock in the morning telling each other stories- I told ones about hunts Dad and I had gone on when Sammy was at college and Bobby told us ones he'd been on in his youth. Sam also told a few, most of them from when I had been in Hell, but he'd mostly preferred to listen to Bobby and I.

I don't even know why we started talking about old hunts; it wasn't like we missed those days. Maybe it was just with the threat of the demon only a handful of weeks ago that got us thinking.

"So, you're sure it's okay if I stay for dinner?" I asked Sam even though I knew the answer.

My brother huffed, "Of course, Dean. I think you'd insult Sarah if you refused to stay."

I grinned. Anything to get a free meal.

W

I grimaced when I slipped from the pickup's cab and onto the asphalt of Sam's driveway. It had taken us almost twelve and a half hours to get from Bobby' place and my back was giving me crap for the non-stop ride. I saw Sam lean over and rub at his left knee and cursed myself silently for not realizing that we should have stopped to stretch our legs.

Not that Sam suggested we take a pit-stop either, stubborn idiot that he is.

Sam limped around the front of the truck, trying to hide the fact that he was hurting and gestured at me to go ahead.

"You should take some Tylenol or something for that, eh?" I suggested as casually as possible.

"It's fine, Dean," Sam told me tiredly.

I shrugged. Whatever. Sam could take care of himself.

My brother opened the front door and stepped into the little entranceway.

It was quiet in the house, not even the radio or television was playing.

"They're probably out in the backyard," Sam muttered and unlaced his shoes.

I nodded and felt reassured by the cold steel of the Colt hidden beneath my long-sleeved shirt in the waistband of my jeans. Ever since I had come over to my brother's house a couple of months ago to give him the demon killing knife I had taken to carrying the gun with me, if for comfort more so than actual protection.

I hadn't told Sam that I still had the gun.

We stepped forward and went into the living room. I could see the patio doors from where we stood and clearly saw that the backyard is empty.

"Sam?" I reached out to grab my brother's arm, my hunter senses tingling when we both nearly jumped out of our skin when Sarah appeared from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," she chuckled good-naturedly, "I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't hear you come two come in."

I relaxed, "Hey Sarah."

Sarah smiled, "Dean."

She stepped toward her husband, "Sammy."

Sarah never calls Sam 'Sammy'; I had an instant to think before I was flying through the air to slam into the bookcase on the other side of the room. Instead of sliding down, I remained pinned in a spread-eagle position against the shelves.

Seconds later I heard Sam grunt and felt the bookcase shudder as my brother was likewise thrown against it.

"Who the fuck are you?" I snapped and struggled to get free of the invisible force holding me tight.

"What, you didn't see my work on the news?" Sarah put a hand on her hip and wagged a finger at me.

I looked at my brother from the corner of my eye and saw his face was pasty white and his eyes were narrowed into slits. I wasn't sure if he was in pain or scared or just downright furious.

Sarah's grey eyes turned pitch black and I gulped as she sashayed her way toward Sam and I.

"I know this isn't my usual M.O. but unfortunately I can't possess you," the demon inside Sarah pouted like a kid who didn't get the toy she'd asked Santa Claus for. She moved close to Sam and unbuttoned his shirt so that the tattoo on his chest was visible.

My brother's response was to start reciting an exorcism.

The demon just laughed, "Save your breath, Sammy."

Sam's voice immediately choked off and I swore silently.

"Where are the kids you son of a bitch?" I snarled at the demon.

Coal-black eyes shot my way. Sarah frowned, "You weren't invited, Dean. This was just supposed to be between me and Sam."

"Sorry to ruin your plans," I muttered mutinously.

"Don't worry; I always have a Plan B," the demon announced as though we really cared.

"I'll just have to make you watch like that as I kill your brats and your pretty little wife and big brother Dean-o," the demon smiled up at Sam with a grin that did not look right at all on Sarah's face.

With the demon so focused on Sam I realized that it wasn't extending as much power to keep me in place. Its primary target was my brother and I was more of an afterthought.

I knew what I had to do… it was the only thing I could do but God damn it!

My Dad's voice spoke suddenly in my head, reciting one of the first lessons about hunting he'd ever told me:

Save as many people as possible, Dean. You may not be able to save everyone and when it comes to that it's not your fault. Remember to stay focused on who you can save.

I averted my eyes from my brother and the demon and stared at the opposite side of the room. There was a gas fireplace there, with a wooden mantle where framed pictures of Sam's family were displayed.

God forgive me for what I am about to do, I thought and snuck my hand behind me, fingers wrapping around the handle of the Colt. My motions were slow as though I was moving through corn syrup and I held my breath, not daring to make the slightest sound.

I stopped thinking, shut my mind down and let my body go through the motions that had been engrained in it since I was a little kid.

Slowly, far too slowly, I pulled the Colt out and pointed it at the demon.

Sarah's head snapped in my direction and she opened her mouth to speak, raised a hand to rip the gun from my grasp but I was ready.

BANG!

The gunshot was loud in the small house but I didn't react. I had been around guns long enough that I no longer even closed my eyes when they discharged.

The bullet hit Sarah in the forehead, just above her right eye and she went rigid. Orange light shone throughout my sister-in-law's body and I heard the crackle of electricity as the demon inside her died and she crumpled to the living room floor, unmoving.

Immediately, Sam and I were released from the demon's power and we both landed heavily, knocking books off the shelves on the way down.

I landed in a haphazard crouch, hissing as I twisted my ankle the wrong way and looked over at Sam who was on his hands and knees, fists bunched in the grey area rug on the floor.

I jumped up and dashed across the room toward the stairs, "I'll get the kids!"

I rushed up the stairs, my feet slipping on the carpeting a couple of times in my hurry.

"Faith! Aaron!" I shouted- there seemed no need to be quiet- and peered into the first bedroom I came to.

"Faith?" I called into the little girl's bedroom, "Aaron?

I turned away and stomped down the hall. I checked in Aaron's room quickly but they weren't there either.

I noticed that the door to the master bedroom was closed so I opened it and crept inside.

"Aaron? Faith, are you in here?" I called softly, not wanting to scare the children.

I didn't get a response and was just about to turn around when I heard a shuffling sound coming from the closet.

I purposefully stepped loudly, letting the kids know I was there. I crouched down and put a hand on the door handle.

Pulling open the closet door, I saw the boy and girl crouched far in the back. Faith had one hand over her brother's mouth; the other was on top of his head, her fingers tangled in his black hair. Aaron had his hands wrapped in his sister's shirt. Both children had tearstained faces and large, round eyes full of fear.

As soon as the kids say me they scrambled into my arms.

"It's okay," I soothed, "You're safe now."

Aaron just cried, clinging to me as though for dear life.

"Where's Daddy?" Faith asked, sniffing ever so often. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and her dark blue eyes searched my face.

"He's here," I muttered, "don't you worry."

"W-what happened?" Faith asked and hugged her body close to mine.

I just shook my head and picked the two children up. They snuggled their faces into my shoulders and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God they were safe.

SPN

I heard Dean stomping down the stairs but made no indication that I actually heard him. All I could do was sit and stare at Sarah's lifeless body and pray that I was just having a nightmare.

"Sam!" Dean barked in the same tone Dad would use if I wasn't moving fast enough. I reacted unconsciously and stood.

"Let's wait outside," my brother said in a softer voice. I saw his hazel eyes were glistening with moisture and he had my son and daughter cradled in his arms. My gaze traveled to the bookcase and I stared at the Colt for a moment as though seeing it for the first time. Dean had forgotten to grab it when he ran for the kids. As though it had a mind of its own, my hand reached out and I picked up the weapon.

I didn't bother asking what we were waiting for. I just followed my brother out into the front yard. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears, drowning out the sound of approaching sirens.

I looked up when Dean nudged me and Faith practically leapt into my arms.

"Daddy," she mumbled and buried her head into my shoulder. In seconds my shirt was soaked through.

Dean took the Colt from me and slipped it into the waistband of his jeans, covering it with his shirt.

I heard my brother talking to me but I didn't pay attention. The only thing I was thinking about was waking up from this nightmare.

SPN

Sam was on autopilot for the entire day. It kind of worked to our advantage though because the police were sympathetic toward him.

I don't think any of those cops even thought Sam might be guilty after seeing the look on his face- it reminded me of a kicked puppy- and how zoned-out he was.

The ambulance attendants even wanted to take Sam to the hospital to treat him for shock.

I did most of the talking. Sam providing one word answers to confirm my story.

As far as everyone was concerned, Sam and I had just returned from a fishing trip in South Dakota to find some desperate asshole threatening Sarah with a gun and demanding money. I told the cops that when Sam and I went inside the guy panicked and shot Sarah before fleeing.

I knew the story was flimsy but it was corroborated by the fact that there had been a string of B & E's on the other side of the city- not something I knew about- and the cops seemed to believe it might have been the same person.

I never spoke directly to Sam, afraid of his reaction. Even though Sam is the most forgiving person I'll ever meet, I was sure he wasn't ready to talk to me just yet.

Hell, I hoped that Sam would forgive me because I knew I'd never forgive myself. I knew I'd regret what I'd done for the rest of my life.

W

I drove Sam and the kids to my place- their house was still a crime scene- and made some Kraft Dinner for Aaron and Faith.

The kids ate the macaroni and cheese as if they hadn't eaten in days. I offered a bowl to Sam but he just shook his head and muttered that he wasn't hungry.

Once the kids had finished eating they seemed to perk up and began asking questions.

Where's Mommy?

Why aren't we at home?

What's wrong with Daddy?

I sighed and looked at Sam, hoping he would take over but he just kind of stared off into the distance.

"Sam!" He jumped when I said his name and blinked as though he'd been daydreaming or something sappy like that.

"You with us?" I asked and Sam nodded, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Come here," Sam said softly and held out a hand for each of his children and led them in the direction of the guest bedroom.

I gathered up the dirty dishes and dumped them into the sink. Leaning against the counter I ran both hands through my hair.

Jesus Christ, what have I done?

W

I left the steam-filled bathroom and walked into the living room to see Sam sitting on the couch, beer in hand, staring at the blank TV screen.

I cleared my throat and my brother turned to me.

"You should take a shower," I suggested, "It'll make you feel better."

It was around eight o'clock at night. Aaron and Faith were asleep in the guest bedroom reserved for S.J. whenever he came over. Sam had not said more than two words to me since dinner and I really starting to worry about him.

Sam shrugged and turned away.

I stepped into the room and sat down on the other side of the couch.

"Sam… we need to talk man," I sighed.

"Dean," Sam said warningly, hackles raised.

I wasn't going to back down. I needed Sam to talk to me.

"Please, Dean," Sam muttered, "Drop it."

"No way!" I argued, "I know it hurts but-"

Sam rounded on me, grabbing the front of my shirt in his hands. I was taken aback by his action.

"She's gone Dean! Sarah's dead… and it's my fault," Sam's voice was somewhere between a snarl and a sob.

I shook my head, "Sam, c'mon, don't blame yourself. You didn't do anything."

"I married her. I practically signed her death warrant," Sam muttered, hands still fisted in my shirt.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded and grabbed my brother's wrists.

"Don't you see the pattern, Dean? First it was Jessica and then Madison and then Ruby and now Sarah… every woman I ever loved died because of me!" Sam cried and I tried to shush him so that his kids wouldn't wake up.

I wanted to say that Ruby was a conniving demonic slut but held my tongue. Sam's wife had just died and he wasn't in a good place right now.

"Sam, it wasn't your fault… none of their deaths were your fault," I tried to reason with him.

Sam shook his shaggy head, tears welling up in his green eyes, "How could I have been so stupid? Why didn't I just tell her to stay away from me?"

I took my hands off Sam's wrists and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him.

"What am I going to do, Dean?" Sam asked me, "How am I going to take care of Aaron and Faith? Can't even take care of m'self…"

"You know what I think?" I asked my brother.

Sam sniffed, "What?"

"I think you need a good night's sleep," I told him, "I think you just need to try and relax."

Sniffing some more, Sam nodded.

"You wanna sleep here?" I indicated the couch and Sam nodded.

I reached over and grabbed the beer bottle he'd set on the coffee table before deciding to manhandle me.

Standing I stared my brother down until he laid down and then turned to put the bottle in the recycling.

"Dean?" Sam's small voice asked.

"Yeah, Sammy?" I answered without turning to look at him.

"Why'd you have the Colt with you?"

I wiped a hand over my face, "Go to sleep Sam. We can talk in the morning."

Thankfully Sam didn't reply. I was afraid Sam would blame me for Sarah's death and although blaming himself wasn't better, the last thing I wanted was for my brother to hate me.

SPN

It was incredibly difficult to breathe around my broken heart. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Sarah's face and a fresh wave of pain washed over me. I couldn't seem to think. My mind just seemed stuck and wouldn't move forward.

I could not get over the extreme feeling of guilt I had over Sarah's death. I should have known better, I had lost enough loved ones over the years to know that my relationship with Sarah wouldn't last. I should have known that my hunting life would one day catch up with me.

I tried not to blame Dean for Sarah's death. If Dean hadn't had the Colt with him… we all might be dead right now.

But I couldn't stop seeing Sarah die. Over and over it replayed in my head. Relentless.

I was exhausted but I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to sleep. All I wanted was Sarah back.

W

The hardest part was explaining to Faith and Aaron that their mother wasn't coming back.

Faith, already seven years old, grasped the concept of death well and didn't ask too many questions. She did cry though, but refused to be comforted when I tried.

Just leave her be, Sam, I told myself, she just needs some time.

Aaron on the other hand thought that Sarah was just out for a while and followed me around Dean's condo asking when she would return.

I didn't want to take the kids back home. I didn't think I'd be able to go back to the house and live there as though nothing had happened. Dean said that he'd come by with me later and pack up some stuff and get the house ready to sell when the police were finished. I could tell that my brother didn't like the idea of me moving again, by the expression on his face when I told him that's what I wanted, but he didn't say anything.

I sat Aaron down on the couch and crouched in front of him. Sighing, I tried a second time to explain that his mother was gone.

"Aaron, Mommy's not coming back," I told my son, trying to keep my own emotions in check.

"Why not, Daddy? Doesn't Mommy love us anymore?" Aaron's small, sad voice made my heart clench in my chest.

"Of course she loves us," I told him, "She loves you and Faith very, very much but she couldn't stay with us."

"Why?" Aaron asked- his favourite new word- and scooted forward on the couch cushion.

"Because…" I paused for a moment, "Because she had to go to Heaven."

"Okay," Aaron said, "Can we go visit Mommy?"

Blinking furiously I got up and sat down on the couch, pulling Aaron into my lap. He stared up at me, waiting for an answer.

"I'm sorry buddy," I apologized, "we can't go and see Mommy. But I'll tell you something. If you're good and kind than one day you'll go to Heaven too and you'll see Mommy there."

Aaron looked excited at the prospect.

"Can you promise me you'll be a good boy?" I asked and Aaron nodded his head eagerly.

My son wrapped his arms around my abdomen and hugged me, "I'll be good, Daddy. I'll be really, really good."

I nodded, "Why don't you go play with your sister, okay?"

Aaron jumped down from my lap and ran down the hall into the guest bedroom where Faith was.

Dean came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and looked at me quizzically.

"No one ever tells you how you're supposed to tell them about death," I muttered.

"I'm sure you did a good job," Dean encouraged.

"What did Dad say to you after Mom's death?" I asked, suddenly curious.

Dean's face clouded over for a moment, "He never really talked about her… just vowed to get the S.O.B who killed her."

I nodded, "Dad didn't really have to explain with me… I was there you know, I saw the fire…"

"Yeah," I agreed.

"You want a beer?" Dean asked to change the subject.

"Dean, its nine thirty in the morning," I stared at him.

"Hey, it's four o'clock somewhere in the world," Dean raised an eyebrow, "Besides, you deserve it. You went through hell yesterday."

I shrugged, not caring either way and Dean returned with a bottle in hand.

"Thanks," I muttered.

Dean sat down on a chair across from me and cleared his throat. I waited for him to speak.

"We should, ah, think about preparing for a funeral," Dean said awkwardly.

I nodded and felt my stomach clench painfully. The last thing I wanted to do was organize a funeral for my wife.

Before I knew what he was doing, Dean was sitting beside me and had one hand on my brow like he used to do when I was a child.

"I'm not sick, Dean," I scolded but didn't pull away.

"Maybe we should get someone else to deal with the funeral stuff," Dean suggested, "You are kind of pale, Sammy."

I let out a watery sigh, my eyes filling with tears.

"Yeah," I answered, "Yeah, maybe we should do that."

Dean nodded and took his hand away.

"I think Sarah has some friends in New York still…" I started but trailed off.

Dean's sharp hazel eyes met mine, "Where's your meds, Sam?"

"Uh…" I shook my head, "In my bag… but Dean-"

"Shut up," Dean snapped and stood, "You need to take your pills."

I watched numbly as Dean stalked down to the guest bedroom where I had left the duffle bag I had packed the day before.

My brother returned with the orange pill bottles, "You take these every day?"

I shrugged, "Mostly."

Dean nodded but made no other comment. I was glad he didn't say anything.

"How're Faith and Aaron doing?" I asked as I opened the bottles and dumped the correct amount of meds into my palm.

"They're playing," Dean said, "They'll be okay Sam. Kids bounce back a lot easier than adults do."

I washed the pills down with the beer Dean had given to me, not caring that I probably shouldn't be mixing them.

Once Dean was satisfied that I wasn't going to flip out of whatever he was worried about, he sat back down on his chair.

"I can call up Lisa, get her to look after Faith and Aaron," Dean suggested.

For a second I dreaded the thought of my children not being close by but then realized that they didn't need to be around when I was trying to arrange their mother's funeral.

"Thanks," I said and leaned back against the couch, closing my eyes.

SPN

I couldn't help but think about the seven stages of grief. Sam seemed to still be in the 'shock and denial' stage and I waited on pins and needles for him to become angry… at me.

There was no denying that I was the one who had killed Sarah. I hated the very thought of it but couldn't run from the truth. I was the one who had pulled the trigger. I knew what I was doing when I had pointed the Colt at Sarah. I knew that if I took the shot I would be killing the demon and Sarah.

Sam has forgiven me for a lot of shit over the years, but I was sure that this would be the last straw.

Instead, Sam continued to feel guilty about Sarah's death and none of the blame landed on me.

A few days passed. Lisa came by to take Aaron and Faith to her place.

Over the years when my ex-wife and I encountered one another we were cold, but civil because we didn't want to make a scene.

When Lisa stepped into the little entranceway of my condo she gave me a hug- something she hadn't done since before we were divorced- and told Sam that she was sorry for his loss. I knew that Lisa had always been wary of Sam ever since his return from Hell but she let the wall down this time and took one of Sam's hands in hers and asked if there was anything she could do for him.

Sam looked as shocked as I felt about Lisa's reaction.

"You're already doing more than enough taking care of Aaron and Faith," Sam had answered quietly.

Lisa had nodded and spread her arms wide for a hug from her niece and nephew.

When Lisa left I turned to Sam and commented, "That's the friendliest she's been to me in six years."

Sam gave a wan smile, "I guess death does that to people."

W

The funeral was really nice… as far as funerals go- I'd never really use the word 'nice' to describe them- and even the day seemed to reflect our mood. It was unusually cold and cloudy, although the rain held off.

A lot of Sarah's friends from Albany and New York City and some of Sam and Sarah's friends from Petite had come down.

There were lots of roses- Sarah's favourite flower, according to Sam- and everyone was sickly sweet and kind.

I think Sam drifted through the funeral and the reception in a daze… he shook the guests' hands and nodded courteously as they expressed their sympathy but I'm pretty sure he was out of it.

Faith and Aaron were not there. Ben had offered to look after them and S.J. and I didn't make a big deal about it… the kids didn't need to be at the funeral.

W

I think that seeing Sarah's coffin being lowering into the ground and buried really made everything sink in for Sam. After the funeral he seemed more lucid, less dazed and distracted. He seemed even more intent on moving away from Sheridan and the house.

I didn't blame Sam for wanting to leave but I hoped he wouldn't go far. I liked having him close by.

"Dean," Sam snapped when I told him so, "Just let me think, okay?"

"Sure," I backed off, "Sure, whatever."

There was the anger I'd been waiting for.

"Look Sam," I began, "I did what I had to do to save us… believe me I hated doing it but-"

Sam glared daggers at me, "Shut up, Dean. I don't want to talk about it, okay? Just drop it."

Just like Sam though when he hits a nerve, I didn't stop. I needed to know what Sam was feeling.

"I don't care if you blame me… I know what I did but I just wanna know if you'll forgive me," I asked.

Sam stood up from the kitchen table where he'd been seated, knocking the chair over as he got up, "Dean. I'm trying not to make this your fault… so please, please don't talk about it. I don't want you to talk about it."

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. Sam's expression turned from one of anger to one of sadness.

"Please, Dean," Sam whispered, "Please don't make me blame you… if I do I won't be able to forgive you… not this time."

I didn't speak about Sarah or what had happened anymore. Like I've said before, I wouldn't be able to handle it if Sam didn't forgive me for Sarah's death.

W

I grinned sardonically as Crowley appeared in the Devil's Trap, unable to resist the pull of the summons.

The black-clad demon King of Hell raised an eyebrow.

"Really, Dean? This is how you treat your friends?" He asked as he stared at the trap sealing him to the spot.

It was just past midnight in the basement of one of my current construction jobs. No one was around and it was a convenient place I knew of to have a little chat with my 'friend'.

"Did you know that one of your demons possessed Sarah Winchester?" I asked, pacing back and forth like a caged lion.

"I don't keep tabs on such things," Crowley said in a bored voice, "I'm sure you cleared that all up though, sent the chap back Downstairs."

I shook my head, "No, I killed him. And Sarah."

"Uh huh and why is that my problem?" The British demon asked, eyes searching his surroundings, looking for a weak spot he could escape through.

"It's your problem because Sarah was Sam's wife!" I snarled and Crowley actually took a step back.

"Well than, send him my deepest sympathies," Crowley recovered and smirked.

"I'm glad someone finds this amusing," I muttered in a sarcastic tone.

Crowley paused and stared at me for a moment, "Dean, I am not stupid. I made a deal with you and I'm going to keep it. The demons all know you and your family is off-limits. I know what you'd do to me if I went behind your back."

I crossed my arms over my chest, "So what if one of your little buddies went rogue?"

Crowley shook his head, "I would have heard about it. Nothing happens unless I orchestrate it."

The king demon must have seen the skeptical look on my face because he sighed and pointed a pudgy finger at me, "I've not laid a finger on you or your brother ever so why would I start now?"

"Beats me," I shrugged.

"If you want to know what happened, why don't you ask one of your angel friends, hm? They seem to have all the answers," Crowley suggested.

I wiped a hand over my face, "You swear you didn't send that demon?"

Crowley mimicked a saintly expression, "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"If I find you that you had anything to do with it-" I began but Crowley cut me off.

"I know, I know, you'll send me back to where I belong," the demon waved a bored hand.

"Wrong," I pulled the Colt out from my waistband and cocked it, "Next time I won't be in the mood for a nice talk."

For once Crowley didn't have something smarmy to say.

I turned and grabbed my duffle bag.

"Hold on! Where are you going?" Crowley called out.

"Home," I answered casually.

"Aren't you going to release me?" the king of demons asked in a stuffy voice.

"Let's just say this is a warning," I looked over my shoulder, "My guys will come in around seven… I'm sure you can convince one of them to let you out."

"Dean," the demon bristled, "I haven't hurt you. Let me go."

"Sorry, Crowley," I apologized insincerely, "No can do."

"Dean!" the demon gave one last shout and then I just tuned him out.

If it had been any other demon I would have send its ass straight back to Hell but because it was Crowley I played by different rules. I knew that however the demon king might hate me right now he wouldn't come after me or my family. He knew I wasn't joking when I threatened to shoot him with the Colt.

I got into the cab of my pickup truck, thinking.

If Crowley didn't send the demon had someone else? Meg was still around and surely she still had Sam and I on her hit list. Maybe the demon was just working on his own, having shits and giggles destroying families and had by coincidence spied Sam's.

As a hunter though, I didn't believe in coincidence.

Crowley had suggested that maybe the angels had something to do with Sarah's death. But why? Seemed kind of pointless to me if they were trying to get some sort of message across or something. Angels usually liked to do their own dirty work and I didn't know an angel who would willingly work with demons.

"Cas, I know we haven't talked in a while," I spoke out loud as I drove down the street and back home.

"I'm not even sure if you're listening to me right now but… I need to hear from you. Sarah's dead… maybe you know and well, Sam and I aren't sure what happened… I just want to know the truth… Crowley said he didn't have a hand in it and even though he's a demon… I believe him… I do… I know you probably think I'm an idiot and a hypocrite for trusting a demon but he's never tried to hurt Sam or me…"

I took one hand off the steering wheel and wiped my face.

"What's happening, Cas? Are Sam and I in danger? Are our families in danger? I know everyone up there is so sure that old Lucy's making a comeback and I just wanna know how long its gonna be… God damn it, Cas! Answer me! We need help down here, we need answers.

I received no reply and turned on the radio to drown out the silence in the truck.

I sighed. The only thing Sam and I could do was be ready. We would be ready to fight whatever they threw at us, like always. There was no way we would let them win. Sam and I would always go down fighting.

I smiled and turned up the radio as 'Eye of the Tiger' began to play. Tapping my hands on the steering wheel, I felt more confident than I had in a while.

Sam and I might be fathers now, husbands, average guys on the outside but inside we would always be hunters at heart. We would always be Winchesters.


End file.
